


Both Alike In Dignity

by Snapjinxx



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Complete, F/M, FOB, Fluff and Angst, Frerard, Lyn-G, M/M, MCR, petekey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 76,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapjinxx/pseuds/Snapjinxx
Summary: Trigger Warning: homophobic slurs





	1. Prologue

"Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."

-William Shakespeare

* * *

*May*

"Dance, dance! Dance, dance! Dance, dance!" 

The crowd roared with ecstasy as the cheerful song ended. Patrick stood back from his microphone for just a moment and listened as the voices of the enormous crowd washed over him. Everyone in the audience were on their feet, screaming as loud as they could at the band on the stage. They seemed to be doing all they could to get the attention of the band they so adored. 

They'd done it. Fall Out Boy had sold out an entire twenty-thousand-something person venue. People back home used to tell them that they'd never amount to anything, but even so, there they were, up on that stage, twenty-thousand-something people in front of them, practically foaming at the mouth with happiness. 

This was the life.

"Thank you, Chicago!" Pete stepped up and grabbed his microphone with both of his hands as he shouted into it. The crowd seemed to roar louder with every sentence he spoke. "That was Dance, Dance, off of our newest album: From Under The Cork Tree!" 

Pete listened closely to the screams in the front row (it would be impossible to listen too far back); he heard at least thirty people screaming at him to marry them. He couldn't help but smile at the hilarity and the craziness of it all. All the people in that audience were cheering and screaming and crying over them. Four short guys from Chicago.

When the noise of the audience died down a little, Pete stepped back up to his microphone and grasped it, again, in both hands. Just as he had before, and just as he would do for the rest of his life ("or as long as this whole music thing lasts," he thought to himself).

"Thank you for being here, everyone!" He exclaimed, with a smile. He decided to speak his mind in front of the audience he loved. "It means so much that you came out tonight. You know, people used to tell us that we'd never get anywhere in this world. People used to say that right to our fuckin' faces." 

The crowd booed loudly.

"Thanks," Pete chuckled. "But look at us now! We wouldn't be where we are right now, able to look our bullies right in the eye and tell them to go fuck themselves,  if it weren't for all of you, and I'm fuckin' grateful for that every day of my life!" 

The crowd cheered and 'aww'ed loudly, and Pete looked down and blushed slightly in response. Soon, however, he jerked his head back up to face his audience, a knowing grin on his face.

"We got some fantastic news for you guys," he continued, almost bursting at the seams with excitement. "We thought you'd like to hear it. This tour might be over, but we're far away from being done. We've decided to extend this tour for the rest of the summer!"

The screams that came from the crowd were nearly deafening. The four-piece band on the stage couldn't help but laugh with excitement and happiness at the crowd's reaction. That was the first public announcement of the extension of the tour, and the people there were practically jumping out of their socks with excitement. That was exactly the reaction the band was hoping for.

"Well, I think we've got time for one more song," Patrick interrupted the crowd's reaction and silently signaled Joe. Joe began playing a familiar guitar riff, as if he'd rehearsed the exact moment when Patrick would signal him. The crowd went ape as they heard the instantly recognizable riff.

"Who's ready for Saturday?"

*** 

"So loooooooong and Goodniiiiiiiiight!" 

Ray and Frank finished the solos they were playing on their guitars with a distorted, punk rock-type sound. The tiny crowd cheered loudly for them. Not rabidly, like Fall Out Boy's crowd, but still very loud and passionate nonetheless. My Chemical Romance wasn't a very popular band, but there was no denying that it had its fanbase.

"Thank you New York City! We're My Chemical Romance! So long and goodnight, everyone!" 

The crowd screamed as Gerard shouted his goodbye to them and as he left the stage with the rest of his band and entered the small backstage area.

"Fuck yeah!" Ray shouted, brushing his hair out of his face with his hands.

"Guys, that was fuckin' rad," Frank Iero commented, coolly yet full of excitement. "That was the best show we've ever done!" 

"So far," Gerard corrected, with a laugh. "That was the best show we've done so far."

"My god," Mikey burst through the door and into the room excitedly. "That was a fuckin' rush!" 

"Yeah, Mikey!" Gerard looked over at his younger brother and beamed with pride. "You did good out there. Real good." 

"Really?" The boy beamed with excitement.

"Fuck yeah, dude," Frank was beaming with almost as much glee as Gerard. He turned to Ray and Gerard, who were standing right next to each other. "What do you guys think? Can we keep him?"

Gerard looked back over at his brother and grinned smugly. 

"Well, I dunno..." 

"C'mon, Gee," Ray rolled his eyes and laughed. "We have to keep him. John's not coming back and we need a regular bass player." 

"Why did John leave again?" Bob asked, packing up his drum kit with a dark-haired roadie at the back of the room. 

"He decided he wanted to do something different with his life," Ray explained. "Decided to go back to school, I think."

"No," Frank interrupted. "He left because he was a pussy-ass bitch. Couldn't take the heat."

"Frank!" Ray shouted, darting his eyes towards Mikey, then back at Frank. "Language!"

"What?" Frank defended himself. "He's not a baby, he's sixteen! He can handle a little fuckin' bad language."

"Yeah," Mikey interjected. "Also, I-I'm seventeen." 

"Seventeen," Frank corrected himself. "C'mon! He's practically an adult." 

"So what's the verdict?" Mikey forced out, not able to wait another second. "Am I in the band or what?"

The other four band members were silent for a moment, but then turned back to Mikey.

"Welcome to the band, kiddo," Gerard beamed with pride and Mikey shouted with ecstasy. 

"Thank you guys so much!" Mikey was speaking a lot louder than usual, with pure energy. "I'm not gonna let you down, I promise!"

"I'll be right back," Gerard said, wiping sweat and pale makeup from his brow. "I gotta wash my face. This shit's killing my eyes."

And with that, he was off to the band's trailer, which had a small bathroom and mirror. It was much nicer than trailers they'd had in the past, but one that a lot of seasoned rockstars would likely describe as 'ok at best.'

"Great show, guys!" The band's manager approached the four members that remained and greeted them warmly. "As always!" 

"Thanks," Ray chirped, clipping his guitar case shut deftly.

"I've got fantastic news!" The manager continued, unable to control himself any longer. The four band members peeked up in unison. "I got in touch with the managers of some pretty big bands. A lot of them really liked your sound."

Frank gasped loudly and Ray laughed with happiness.

"And?" Mikey asked, excitedly. "What's the word? Are we opening for anyone?"

"Yes!"

The band members cheered loudly in happiness.

"I can't believe it! This is actually happening!" Frank grabbed Ray, Mikey, and Bob and pulled them into a celebratory group hug.

"Believe it, you guys'd better get ready for another tour!" It starts next month!"

"Mikey, go get Gee!" Frank said. Mikey complied with what his bandmate told him and went to the trailer to get Gerard.

"Gee!" he shouted to his brother. Gerard jumped in fear, accidentally knocking a few plastic bottles filled with various hair and skin products off of the minuscule counter. He looked over at Mikey and sighed with relief as he realized who it was.

"Oh, it's just you," he sighed, startled by Mikey's sudden appearance. He looked back into the mirror and continued to wipe off the black around his eyes with a cotton circle. "Mikey, you scared me. You can't fuckin' sneak up on me like that, ok?" 

"Ok," Mikey agreed. "But we just got news: we're opening for someone! Our manager said its someone big!"

"Oh my god," Gerard exclaimed, with a smile. "It's actually happening! I can't believe it! We're gonna be so famous!" 

"Come on out," Mikey suggested. "The other guys are celebrating! We should join them."

"Of course!" Gerard dropped the now completely black cotton circle into the small trash can by the toilet and rushed out with Mikey. When they got outside of the trailer, Ray, Frank, and Bob were already there. The thing was, they all wore looks on their faces that were almost the opposite of what they had been before. Instead of perky and upbeat, the three of them seemed morose.

"Guys?" Mikey examined, confusedly.

"What's wrong?" Gerard grilled, concern in his voice. 

"Well," Ray explained, bitterly. "Our manager just told us who we're opening for." 

"That's it?" Gerard snapped, with sass. "You're moping because of who we're touring with?"

The others nodded.

"Well, who is it? Whoever they are, they can't possibly be bad enough to turn dow-"

"It's Fall Out Boy," Frank interrupted. 

"Shit." 

That was all Gerard could say when he found out. That was not the answer he was expecting. Mikey groaned in disappointment.

"Seriously?" He moped. "Those assholes?"

"Yup," Frank sighed. 

"This sucks!" Mikey exclaimed. "Of all the bands we could have toured with, we got stuck with Fall Out Boy? This is gonna be a nightmare!" 

"Hold on, guys." 

The others turned to see what Gerard was going to say next. He looked like he was having an idea.

"This doesn't have to be so bad for us," he thought out loud, and then smiled. "No, this could actually be fun!"

"Fun?" Frank asked, leaning in to hear what Gerard was going to say. Ray and Bob leaned in too. 

"How is it possibly gonna be fun?" 

"I don't quite know yet." Gerard's eyes rolled up in thought and he tapped the corner of his mouth with his finger. "All I know is that we have a real opportunity here. We can't waste it."

"Opportunity?" Mikey prodded, curiously. "For what?"

The others laughed at Mikey's naïvety. They all suddenly understood what was happening in Gerard's brain.

"Little brother," Gerard smiled mischievously and wrapped an arm around his brother. "We're gonna ruin Fall Out Boy."


	2. Battle Of The Bands

*June*

"Opening act's on in thirty, if you guys wanna see 'em."

Andy nodded at the stagehand as she rushed out and shut the door behind her. Pete stretched out on the brown loveseat and grinned buoyantly. He gazed around at the greenroom that the four of them had all to themselves. They were a distinguished group, so they had been in many a greenroom before, but this one was particularly lavish. The walls were a soft yellowish hue, and the room itself had everything that a group of musicians would need before going onstage: couches, TV, video games, snacks, and even a karaoke machine. Pete had no idea how the other guys felt, but he felt like a pretty noteworthy man.

Patrick and Joe were settled together on the couch in front of the TV, the two of them caught up in a heated game of Mario Kart. Even though he was not exactly paying attention to what was happening on the screen, Pete could tell which party was winning; every once in a while, he would hear Patrick swear under his breath.

"Pete, the stagehand just stopped by." Andy leaned in closer to Pete so he could hear him over the noise of the game before getting up and making his way to the back of the green room. 

"What'd she say?" Pete prodded, resting his head on the back of the couch to look at Andy upside-down.

"The other band is going on soon." Andy walked over to the back of the room, opened up the mini fridge, and rifled through it. "Shit, we're out of water."

"Fuck," Joe breathed, not taking his eyes off of the screen for fear of losing the game. "God, is it too much to ask for enough fucking waters for four people?"

"I dunno," Andy admitted, sitting on the couch next to Pete and stretching. "But I'm not getting more drinks. You guys made me do that last time."

"Well," Joe sighed, as his virtual go-kart swiftly maneuvered into first place. "I'm about to school Pat, so I can't-- Fuck! Who blue shelled me?"

"Who's schooling who now?" Patrick taunted, trying and failing to weave through the other go karts. 

"Fine, I'll go." Pete sighed and stood up, making his way to the door with an eye roll. "I'll go get some water from the other band's green room... By myself... On my birthday..."

"We all know its not your birthday yet, Pete." Joe rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to guilt trip us."

"You got me," Pete chuckled happily and opened up the door. "I'll go get the waters."

He shut the door behind him and began to make his way over to the other band's greenroom. He didn't know exactly where it was, but he continued pacing in a random direction and hoped he would end up being correct. Even if he ultimately ended up being incorrect, he didn't mind. Being away from the guys in his band seemed like the best thing for him, especially when they had only been apart for each other for less than a week before they had to get back together and tour again. The stress of the whole situation had not yet seemed to have gotten to the others, but Pete was definitely beginning to feel it weigh down on him. Even so, he wasn't about to let that stop him from doing what he loved.

He thought of this as he wandered around the busy hall aimlessly as roadies set up equipment, seats filled up in the crowd, and tensions grew high. Though the hustle and bustle of the other band's roadies setting up the stage was stressful to most, Pete actually felt his most relaxed in that environment. He wondered if it was because the stage was always where he was meant to be, or if that he just liked background noise; all he really knew was that, though he wasn't the happiest of people, he felt a little better when he was surrounded by noise. Suddenly, he was dragged from his own head and back into the world of reality as he felt someone bump into him and he heard a loud crashing noise. 

"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry!"

Pete noticed that it was a boy who had bumped into him; he looked to be in his early-to-mid twenties, with flippy brown hair, glasses, a long black jacket with too many zippers, and a blood red scarf. Pete's first impression of the boy was that he was quite a weird character. Then again, in the emo music industry, who wasn't a little abnormal?

"Oh, um, it's ok," Pete stammered, trying to come up with something to say to the boy. "Is everything alright? What happened?"

The boy had knelt down to investigate the situation at hand: he had dropped a guitar-shaped cloth case on the ground, and he looked almost terrified for his life as he opened it up. 

"No, no, no!" He stammered, as he picked of the shattered remains of his instrument. It turned out to be a simple black bass guitar, now with three out of four strings snapped and the neck completely separated from the body. It must have been very old to have broken so easily. The cheap cloth case couldn't have helped either. 

"Fuck! This can't be happening!" 

"Hey, it's gonna be ok." Pete knelt down as well and tried to comfort the stranger, bus as soon as he saw the broken instrument, he couldn't stop himself from wincing. 

"Oh, that's bad."

"My band's gonna kill me!" The boy was beyond himself with emotion. "I-I worked so hard to get into this band and before my first big concert I break my bass... oh my fucking god, I'm doomed."

"You'll be ok," Pete comforted, even though he was also terrified for the boy. "You know what? I'm gonna help you. I've got extras, I can go grab you one real quick. Just wait here and I'll be right-"

"Thank you!" Without warning, the boy had pulled Pete into a tight hug. Pete didn't know exactly how to react to the situation; all he could do was find out what was going to happen. 

"Um, yeah. Don't mention it." He pulled away from the hug uncomfortably and stood up quickly. "Wait here."

"Ok, I will!" The boy sniffled and wiped his eyes with one of his sleeves as Pete rushed away. "Thank you!"

Pete rushed over to the band's trailer, and he grabbed the bass that hung on the wall; it was a very high quality black-and-white instrument, with brand new strings. That particular bass had lasted Pete for nearly five years; it wasn't about to break. Not easily, anyway. He gave it a quick strum and tuned it by ear as he made his way back to the crowded hall. He pushed his way through the bustling crowd of tech people and roadies, and he saw the boy standing on one side of the hall, his broken instrument packed up in the flimsy case. His eyes lit up as he saw Pete rushing over to him with the new instrument. 

"Here," Pete passed the bass to the boy, who looked as if he had just seen an actual angel. "Be careful with this one, I love her."

"Thank you so fucking much!" The boy guffawed, eyeing the beautiful instrument with childlike excitement. "You just saved my fucking life! I-" 

He gasped sharply and paled as he got a clear glimpse of who had helped him and realized exactly who it was. He had no idea how he didn't recognize the man's black-ringed eyes, emo fringe, and indescribably warm yet silvery voice sooner.

"You're Pete Wentz!"

"Yeah," Pete smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"I-I'm sorry, but I can't accept your help. I'm-"

"Mikey, what the hell is taking you so lo-" 

Gerard walked towards his brother, but went silent as he and Pete locked eyes. Pete was speechless, and he could actually feel his heart sink into his stomach as he saw who it was. Gerard, on the other hand, didn't feel out of place at all. In fact, he smiled with genuine felicity when he recognized Pete.

"Well, what do we have here? My own kid brother talking to Pete Wentz? What a sight!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pete snarled, his brow furrowing.

Mikey could feel the color drain from his face with fear and regret. This was the second grave mistake he had made in less than ten minutes. First, he had broken his only touring bass, then, he had unknowingly let Fall Out Boy's bassist help him. He wanted to leave, but all he could do was stay quiet and hope things passed quickly.

"you didn't answer my question," Pete stated, firmly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You don't know?" Gerard moved in closer to Pete, who backed away uncomfortably. "We're opening for you! Isn't that something?"

"No," Pete denied, feeling himself start to sweat with stress in spite of himself. "You're lying. Our manager told us that the new opening act was some new band called 'Bastille.'" 

"Huh, that's strange," Gerard overacted, with a head tilt. "Because we're on in, like, five minutes? Is that right, Mikes?"

"I dunno," Mikey mumbled, avoiding eye contact with both parties.

"Don't be so shy, kiddo," Gerard announced, wrapping an arm tightly around his brother. "Oh, I almost forgot to introduce you! This is Mikey. He's our new bass player."

"We've met." Mikey was caught in the middle of a conversation he didn't want to be a part of, and the only thing he was thinking of was getting out. 

"Yeah, we have," Pete snapped. "He's using my bass."

"What's happening now?" Frank stepped out from My Chemical Romance's greenroom dramatically, almost as if he were following a cue. He seemed concerned, but as soon as he saw Pete, he seemed happy, just as Gerard did. "Oh my god, it's Pete! Guys, Pete's here!" 

Ray and Bob followed, and nonchalantly addressing Pete before turning their attention back to preparing to go onstage.

"Wait," Gerard backtracked a bit. "Did you say that he's using your bass?"

"Yeah," Mikey mumbled, guiltily. "Mine broke and he offered to let me use one of his... He really saved me this time." 

"Oh," Gerard chirped, with a smile, even though there was a slight aura of rage radiating from him. "That was... Really nice of you. Thanks, Pete." 

"Hey, you guys are on in five. Let's get going!" The stagehand peeked over at the group shortly before leaving.

"Well," Gerard grinned and clapped Pete's shoulder as if they were old friends. "We gotta go open up this show. Thanks for saving our asses."

He and the others from My Chemical Romance made their way to the stage. Outraged, Pete made his way back to his own band's green room and burst through the door angrily.

"Damn, Pete," Patrick exclaimed, getting up and standing over to Pete. "You're finally back. What took you so long?"

"You guys aren't gonna fucking believe this."


	3. Why

"Hello, Austin! We're My Chemical Romance, and we're gonna start you off with a song we wrote called I'm Not Okay!"

The venue was enormous; bigger than any My Chemical Romance had played for in the past. They were only the opening act, and a lot of the seats were empty, but even so, there were thousands upon thousands of people there cheering for them; some half heartedly, some with actual excitement. Most remained seated as the music started to play, but by the end of the song, practically all of them had risen to their feet and begun to dance wildly. Instead of a polite, quiet applause, the crowd roared with satisfaction. Nobody, not even the band onstage, had expected that kind of reaction.

"Wow, thank you!" Gerard smiled at the crowd. "I wasn't expecting this. Um, this is fucking amazing!" 

The crowd bellowed in response. Gerard seemed to be blushing. 

"This next song..." Gerard paused, for dramatic effect. "...This one's really near and dear to my heart. It's called Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For The Two Of Us, and it's about sucking dick for cocaine."

The audience nearly burst a seam with slightly uncomfortable laughter as the second song started. Things were going swimmingly for My Chemical Romance, but backstage, Fall Out Boy watched through the curtains, their jaws practically on the floor.

"The fuck?" Joe exclaimed, raising his voice just enough for the others to hear him over the loud speakers. "What are they doing? Why is the audience applauding this?"

"They're totally eating this shit up!" Andy added, watching closely as the audience all flocked towards the stage to get closer to the band. He watched as Gerard leaned down and gave one lucky new fan a quick kiss on the hand in the middle of the song, and he watched as the fan screamed and fawned over the singer.

"They... Love it!"

"How could they possibly buy this bullshit?" Patrick chimed in on the hateful comments with a huff.

Pete said nothing. He continued to watch the show My Chemical Romance put on with deep interest. He observed the unique characteristics of the five piece band. Gerard overacted and occasionally interacted with the audience as he sang. Ray strummed his guitar with a precision that not many guitarists could and occasionally sang into the microphone in front of him. Bob played drums diligently in the back and mostly kept his focus on his instrument. Frank was all over the place; he jumped all over the stage, swung his guitar over his head, and at one point, he lay on his back in front of the audience as he played. He seemed to enjoy himself more than all of the aforementioned band members put together; this was really saying something, since they all seemed to be beyond themselves with happiness on that stage.

Then, there was Mikey. 

Mikey stood somewhat closer to the back of the stage, trying and failing to hide the fear on his face and not moving much. He seemed horrified, almost like he didn't want to be out in front of the huge audience but didn't want to show it. Despite the excitement going on on the stage, Pete kept his focus on Mikey; in a chaotic setting, the normal thing is usually the most interesting.

Well, that, and also because he was trying to keep a close eye on his beloved bass.

"Why the hell did you help him?"

"What?" Pete turned back to face Patrick.

"Why'd you help him?" Patrick seemed genuinely annoyed by Pete's kind gesture, and Pete found himself surprised at his bandmate.

"He needed my help," he explained, simply.

"He's a rival." Patrick rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"I didn't know that then," Pete explained, somewhat angrily. "but even if I did, I would have helped him out. I'm not the type of person to stand by and watch someone fry for a fixable mistake. Especially not an innocent kid."

"Kid?" Joe raised his voice again. "Isn't he, like, 23 or something?"

"I don't know," Pete sighed. "I just thought it'd sound better to use the work 'kid,' to be honest."

"My god," Patrick sighed angrily. "You exhaust me so much sometimes."

Pete brushed off his bandmate with a tsk and turned back to the clusterfuck of a show that was happening on the main stage. He had no more patience to listen to Patrick judge someone he'd never even met. Admittedly, he really didn't know Mikey at all, so he had no room to argue against Patrick's judgement. He was stuck in an uncomfortable and oddly empty situation he had no more interest in being a part of.

* * *

"Thank you again, Austin! We love you!" The crowd screamed their absolute loudest as the band finished up their final song. "That song was called Helena! We like to finish with that one." 

The crowd booed loudly at the very notion that the band was finished with their set. 

"Hey, it's ok," Gerard consoled the audience. "You guys don't need to be sad. You know why? Because Fall Out Boy is up next! That's what you guys came for anyway, right? We did too. Thanks for an amazing night, everyone! So long and goodnight!" 

The spotlights all went dark, and when the house lights turned back on, the band had disappeared from the stage without a trace. The audience murmured with happiness, all of them talking about the gem of a band they had just discovered. 

The band made their way offstage, shouting and laughing with elation. As they passed Fall Out Boy, their excitement didn't waver at all. 

"Oh my god, that was so much fun!" Gerard commented, clapping Patrick on the shoulder as if they were old buddies, just as he had done to Pete. "Patty-Cakes, nobody told me singing up there in front of all those people would be such a rush!"

"It's Patrick, to you." Patrick brushed Gerard's hand off of him sharply. 

"God, I was just tryna be friendly," Gerard laughed. "Why such a grump today, Pat? You stressed about going on?"

"That's enough," Andy interjected, flatly.

"Ok," Gerard reasoned with the others. "I'm just playing. We'll leave you guys alone. We just wanted to tell ya to break a leg out there, and-."

"Thanks." Joe wasn't about to let that whole episode go on any longer than it needed to. Gerard smirked, reading the angry and uncomfortable body language of his enemies like a book.

"C'mon, guys." He gestured for his band to follow him, but before they left, Gerard turned back to the now enraged Fall Out Boy. "We're gonna be at the Holiday Inn on First and Hawthorne if you guys want to come party with us. We'll be in the Presidential Suite. 'Cause, you know, we're famous now."

Gerard blew a playful kiss at his rival band and waved goodbye before leaving. This was no time to be playful, and he knew it. He knew, however, that playing that part was a surefire way to rile up his rivals. It was all part of his grand scheme. Manipulation was one of his best talents, and he knew it.

"Assholes," Patrick muttered under his breath as he made his way onstage. The other band members followed him, all muttering things like that to each other. Right as Pete was about to go onto the stage, however, he felt something tug at his sleeve softly. He looked back and saw Mikey.

"Thank you." 

Mikey mouthed those words of gratitude to Pete and blushed softly before turning and following his band members to the tour bus. Despite how angry he had just been a second before, Pete couldn't stop himself from grinning softly. He couldn't help but feel respect towards the boy.

***

"Guys, how fucking rad was that?" Frank was still practically bouncing off of the walls with excitement, while the others were just starting to calm down. This routine was something the guys were all used to. 

"That was fucking wild," Gerard responded. "Guys, we're officially on our way." 

"I'll drink to that," Ray announced, lifting up a beer from the mini fridge. The others grabbed drinks of their own and toasted before sipping in unison. 

"Hey, where's Mikey?" Gerard looked around for his brother. Almost immediately, Mikey came through the door of the greenroom, carrying his own broken bass and also Pete's bass. 

"Sorry, guys," he breathed heavily and laid down both instruments on his own bed. "I'm back now."

"The hell are you doing?" Ray asked, with a head tilt. "Why'd you take that stuff with you?"

"I wanted to try and fix it. I thought maybe with a shit ton of duct tape and some new strings, I-" 

Mikey didn't get to say a lot before Gerard got up and slammed him against the wall of the hotel violently. One arm barred against his chest, the other held his hands back.

"Get off me, shithead!" 

Mikey used every ounce of gall he had to fake being brave while he was trapped.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Gerard growled, threateningly. Mikey struggled to get free from his brother's grip, but he was trapped.

"Let me go!" He was starting to run out of false bravery. Fear began to eat him alive.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Gerard repeated, snarling at his brother. "First you let your one good bass get destroyed, and then you let Pete fucking Wentz do us a favor? We haven't even been on this tour for a fucking day, Mikey!"

"I-I didn't know it was him at first, I swear-"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Gerard bellowed, barring Mikey's chest with more aggression. Mikey cowered and avoided eye contact, just trying to block everything out until it was over. 

"Now, because of you, Fall Out Boy has something to hold against us!"

"I'm sorry! I-It won't happen again, I promise-"

"Let him go," Ray had now approached the brothers and was trying to break up the confrontation. "That's enough."

"Cram it, Ray," Frank was now chiming in on the situation. "Let Gee finish what he was tryna say."

"Gerard, get off  'im." Bob had joined Ray in trying to pry Gerard off of Mikey, and both were sucessful in freeing the boy. Mikey leaned against the wall and coughed loudly, taking in as much air as he possibly could now that his chest wasn't being crushed.

"Fine." Gerard broke free from the grips of his bandmates and took a second to compose himself before looking back at Mikey. "Just don't fucking mess up again. You're not gonna be so lucky next time." 

Completely powerless, all Mikey could do was catch his breath and stay standing as best he could. Gerard sat down on his own bed and thought for a moment. 

"Well, since you set us a step back, we gotta set ourselves back on track. Fast." Gerard thought this out loud. He thought for a moment before his eyes set on Pete's bass, which rested on Mikey's bed. If he were a cartoon character, that would have been the point where a little lightbulb would have appeared over his head. 

"Let's send those bastards a message. Frank, get me that bass. The black and white one."

"What?" Mikey was putting the pieces together in his own mind and he didn't like where the situation was headed. "No! Don't you dare touch that bass, Frank!" 

It was too late. Frank had evaded Mikey and he had the bass in his clutches. Before Mikey, Ray, or Bob could stop him, Frank handed the bass over to Gerard.

"Gerard! Please don't!" 

Again, it was just too late. There was a crash, and before Mikey knew it, the shattered remains of Pete's bass littered the ground. Ray and Bob were both speechless. The only sound that could be heard was that of Frank's crazy laughter and Mikey's pounding heartbeat. Not a lot ran through Mikey's head in the moment; all he thought about was how guilty he felt and how Pete would react. He dropped to his knees in front of the bass and picked up some pieces in his hands. 

"No, no, no!" He repeated, each passing second reminding him that the bass was now completely irreparable. "Why? Why would you do this?"

"I'ts a symbol," Gerard explained, a little bit too calmly. He gestured to the broken bass and grinned. "They think they're better than us because they've got more equipment to hand out. When they see this outside the door of their tour bus, they'll understand that we don't owe them shit and we don't want their fucking charity. C'mon, guys, let's go drop this off."

Frank picked up the pieces of the bass and followed Gerard with glee, while Bob and Ray hesitated. For a moment, it seemed as if they were going to stay back and comfort Mikey, but when Gerard called them, they followed him. Mikey was left alone in the greenroom, completely powerless. 

He'd never felt so small in his life.


	4. You Don’t Know Me At All

"Guys, oh my god! That show was ama-"

"You're fired."

Pete spat those words at his manager; not with rage or violence, but with pure, terrifying contempt. The manager's expression changed from one of happiness to one of shock in less than a few seconds as he heard the fateful words being spoken.

"What?" He questioned, loudly and angrily. "Fired? Why the fuck would you fire me?"

"The opening act," Patrick added, saying exactly what Pete was about to.

"You lied to us!" Joe picked up his guitar case and rested it on his hip as he awaited an answer. The manager stammered, as one does when they're angry but know the other party is right. 

"You guys... You guys don't understand-"

"Yeah, we don't." Pete's gaze didn't waver as he snipped at his manager. "Care to explain?"

"They're a growing band!" The manager shouted, finally admitting the truth he had held to himself for a month. "Most of their fans also love you! It was a convenience thing for your fans! I would've told you, but you just would've said no!"

"Yeah, and for good reason!" Patrick exclaimed, putting heavy emphasis on every word of the sentence. "Oh my god, you're such a fucking idiot."

"You'd better leave. Now." 

Pete's words weren't so much a suggestion or a demand as they were a threat, and the manager knew it. He exited the venue in a fury, telling them that they'd never find another manager anyway.

"What now?" Andy sighed, massaging his temples in stress.

"We manage ourselves," Patrick huffed, picking up his guitar case and resting it on his hip before beginning to walk in the direction of the tour bus. "First order of business: let's get rid of the opening act."

"Fuck yeah!" Joe followed Patrick, and so did Andy.

"No."

The other three members of Fall Out Boy looked at Pete if he'd just made an extremely distasteful joke, but Pete stood his ground.

"We're not getting rid of them. They've already gotten on the audience's good side with this nice guy act they're doing. If we fire them now, we're just gonna look like jerks." 

He lifted his bass up and began to walk towards the tour bus with it. 

"Plus, there's probably gonna be a shit ton of legal agreements we'll have to fight in court, which means either putting our tour on hold or cancelling it altogether. I'd say gritting our teeth for a few months is better than making all our fans hate us, don't you guys think?"

"Pete, we're not gonna be able to make it," Patrick reminded his friend, who was now pushing open the heavy backstage door and heading outside. Patrick followed close behind, and so did the others. 

"You know their history with us. It's just a matter of time before one of them does something th- Oh my fucking god!"

"What?" Pete jumped back, startled by Patrick's sudden outburst, and looked over to him. Trembling, Patrick pointed to the spot in front of the door of the tourbus. Pete looked in the direction Patrick's finger pointed, and he gasped as well when he saw what was there.

"My bass!"

He dropped to his knees in front of the shattered remains of his beloved bass and took a piece in his hands. This wasn't the type of damaged that could be fixed; his favorite bass had been totaled.

"That's what that 'innocent kid' did, Pete. Not so innocent anymore, is he?" 

Patrick put his hand on his hip as he overlooked the heartbreaking situation. Pete slammed the piece he had picked up back on the ground violently and stood up. He couldn't believe that, after the act of kindness he'd shown towards the boy, he would do something as awful as this.

"I'm not letting this go." Pete picked up the bass he'd used in the show and turned to face the rest of his band. "No. That little shit's not fucking getting away with this. I'm putting a stop to this right now."

***

"So, here's your room, Mikey."

"What?" Mikey glimpsed through the door and into the small room with shock. "Gee, I thought we were all partying in a suite."

"Oh, no," Gerard explained, with a grimace. "We had to make a few changes last minute. We're gonna be partying pretty hard and we don't wanna have a kid with us. We're staying up there, and you're staying right here."

"What?" Mikey exclaimed, in total disbelief. "I-I don't get to be with you guys? You're just tossing me out?"

"Just shut your damn mouth, ok?" Gerard massaged the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "It's not like we're kicking you out of the band, we're just gonna be partying and we don't need you ruining our reputation."

"I won't ruin your reputation," Mikey mumbled, in defense. "I can be responsible."

"It's not about responsibility!" Gerard barked, with an eye roll. "Do you know what kind of hit our reputation would take if word got out that we're the kind of band that invites children to parties like this? Even if you act like a fucking angel in there, rumors are still gonna spread."

"I'm in the band," Mikey argued, his brow furrowing at his brother. "That's gotta count for something, right? Also, Bob and Frank aren't legal drinking age either. You gonna kick them out too?"

"They're twenty, you're seventeen." Gerard explained. "Big difference. They're legal adults, at least. You're still a child."

"I know, you never let me fucking forget it."

"Hey!" Gerard grabbed Mikey's shoulder tightly and looked him right in the eye. "Now's not the time to fucking fight with me. I could have kicked your ass out of this band hours ago, but here you are. Consider yourself lucky I'm letting you sleep in a separate room."

"Let go of me, asshole!" 

Mikey shoved Gerard off of him and walked through the door of his room, slamming it shut and locking it behind him quickly. Gerard was left all alone in the hall. He sighed softly, a sudden wave of sadness washing over him. He knew what he was doing to his brother wasn't fair, and he knew that Mikey didn't deserve to be treated like that, but he was only trying to look out for him. In his own unconventional way, he was only trying to be a protector. Realizing how badly he'd failed as a brother that day, yet not willing to admit it, all he could do was walk away and hope that everything from there would go uphill. 

Mikey, meanwhile, couldn't find comfort in his little space no matter how hard he tried. As he had heard spoken in a movie or two: he couldn't sleep with such a heavy conscience weighing on him. Pete had done something that went against the feud to help him in his time of need, and he returned the favor by letting something his savior loved get destroyed. He didn't care that it was actually his brother's fault, all he could think about was how upset Pete would be.

He also knew that Gerard and the others were very serious about their band, and subsequently, the feud that came with it. Mikey had always wanted to be part of a famous band, and right then, his dream was finally starting to become his reality. He wanted to fix things with Pete, but he knew that if he was caught, he'd be out of the band before he could even say 'I can explain.' It weighed down on him like a ton of bricks.

After a few grueling hours of trying to forget what had happened and get a decent night's sleep, Mikey decided that it was time to finally take a risk and go against what his band told him. He grabbed his phone and wallet and exited the room, dialing a local taxi service as he went. He was going to make it up to Pete, and nobody could stop him. 

***

By around four AM, Pete had gathered all of the supplies he needed and had found the place he was looking for. Even if he hadn't gotten directions from Gerard, their hideaway would have been easy to spot; every light at the top floor was lit, loud music blared, happy voices could be heard, and cars were lined up for blocks around the crappy little hotel. These were all trademarks of a newer, arrogant band's party. Pete couldn't see what was going on up in the suite, but he knew for a fact that the hotel was getting trashed, people were getting drunk and high, and at least one person was having sex with a band member, hoping that the one night would ultimately lead to true love. Pete had been to his fair share of parties like that in the early days of Fall Out Boy. There were still parties like that, but by then, he had lost interest in trashing his health and pretending he was having a good time doing it.

Around the back of the hotel, in a reserved parking space, rested My Chemical Romance's tour bus. Pete grinned as he took his bag of supplies, exited his rental car, and went up to the unsupervised vehicle. He made sure his hood was pulled up in case there were any surveillance cameras and took a can of white spray paint from his bag. He gave the can a quick shake and pointed it at the low-end tour bus, intent on causing some lasting damage.

"What the hell?" 

Pete turned around quickly and saw that someone had seen him; he was a boy, with glasses, a red scarf, and a jacket that had too many zippers. He carried a big black box in his hands. It was Mikey. 

"Oh, well look who it is!" Pete shouted over at the boy, mean spirit and sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

"Shh!" Mikey shushed, dropping the case he was carrying and rushing up closer to Pete. "Keep your voice down! You're gonna get cau-" 

Mikey wasn't able to finish his sentence, as Pete's fist collided hard with his nose. He stumbled backwards, both from the impact of the punch and the pain he felt.

"Fuck!" He shouted, standing up shakily and leaning against the tour bus for support. Blood dripped from his nose and he seemed woozy from the impact. 

"Okay, to be fair, I deserved that."

He slowly composed himself and looked back at the fuming Pete.

"What are you doing here? Tagging our bus?"

"Doesn't feel too good, does it?" Pete laughed at Mikey's question with fury. "When someone destroys something you love. It fucking hurts!"

"You're doing it wrong," Mikey explained, grabbing a second spray paint can from Pete's bag and examining the label. "This stuff's water based; if someone catches it while it's still wet, it'll just wash off with water. It'll certainly be a bitch to take off if it dries, but if you want something that'll permanently ruin the varnish, you gotta use oil or latex based paint."

"How the fuck do you know that off the top of your head?"

"I'm from Jersey." 

Mikey tossed the can over to Pete and wiped the blood off of his face with his sleeve. 

"If you're gonna do it, you'd better do it now. This shit takes a long-ass time to dry."

"Why are you helping me?" Pete asked the boy, seeming more surprised (and somewhat impressed) than angry. 

"Listen." Mikey hoisted the box he was carrying before up by the handle and looked Pete in the eyes, lowering his voice significantly. "Can we talk about this somewhere a little less conspicuous? I don't want anyone we know catching us talking to each other."

Pete was surprised, but he was willing to hear the boy out. Maybe it was the craziness of being awake at four in the morning, maybe it was leftover excitement; whatever it was, all he knew was that he wanted to hear what Mikey had to say.

"Fine," He sighed, running a hand through his hair out of stress. "Where did you want to go?"

"There's this crappy diner I saw down the road," Mikey suggested. "It's walking distance and I'm pretty sure nobody we know is gonna be there. Especially this early."

The odd pair made their way down the road, the taller one with blood still dripping from his nose, lugging a big box behind him, and the shorter one dressed like he was about to vandalize something. Mikey used his free hand to wipe the blood from his nose again.

"Here."

Pete pulled a packet of tissues from his coat pocket and tossed it to Mikey. In spite of everything, he was helping him again. Despite how angry he was, he couldn't help but feel bad for the bloody-faced kid. Mikey took the tissues happily and blotted the space between the bottom of his nose and his top lip generously.

"Thank you," He smiled over at Pete and chuckled a little bit. "That was a good punch, by the way."

"Shut up," Pete snapped, not looking back at Mikey. "We're not friends, ok? I'm going to listen to what you have to say, but that doesn't mean I forgive you."

The rest of the trip was completely silent, and Mikey didn't speak up again until he and Pete were seated at a booth, right across from each other. 

"Pete, I'm really sorry about what happened," Mikey apologized, sincerely. "I know that's really not enough to fix things, but I am really, really sorry."

"I loved that bass," Pete huffed, obviously extremely frustrated with the situation at hand. "Why'd you do it? All I did was help you."

"I know," Mikey hunched his shoulders with embarrassment. "You did a really selfless thing for me and I'm really grateful you did. The others weren't happy that I accepted your help, though." 

He felt Pete's eyes on him as he explained the story. He could see it written on his face that he didn't believe a word of what he was saying; nevertheless, he kept telling the truth.

"As soon as we got offstage and back to our greenroom, Gerard turned on me. He'd been doing that nice guy thing all day, so I thought he might just keep being nice to me, but he wasn't. He told me that I fucked up really badly. He told me that, by accepting your help, I made you guys believe we owed you something. He wasn't having any of it."

"So you were sending a message?" Pete asked, eyeing the boy intensely, scouring him for any signs that he might be lying. 

"I didn't do anything," Mikey defended, his bespectacled, puppy-dog eyes wide and disappointed. "I just wanted to get your bass back to you. I mean, I guess it was kind of my fault; I was stupid and scared and I should have fought harder to get it back from them, but-"

"Mikey, just stop." Pete had clearly heard enough, and he clearly wasn't convinced.

"Let me finish." Mikey picked up the case he was carrying and placed it on the table in front of Pete. "Here. I got this for you. Open it up."

Pete was skeptical, but interested. He unclasped the case and looked inside the box, gasping as he saw what was inside it: it was a brand new, very high quality bass. It was black and white, a lot like the one that he had recently lost, with four brand new strings and a shiny, almost untouched finish.

"I wanted to replace yours," Mikey blushed. "I know that one's nowhere near as special as the other one, but it's still the best one I could find."

Pete took the instrument out of its case and looked it over with wide eyes. 

"Mikey, I-" He stammered, unable to find words to express what he was feeling. "Where'd you get this? How'd you get this?"

"I found this little instrument shop on the internet," Mikey explained. "Only one I could find that was open this time of night. It was like an hour taxi ride away." 

"Mikey, this mustve cost a fortune!" Pete exclaimed, looking over the instrument again, as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. "Where'd you get that kind of money?"

"Don't worry about that." Mikey shrugged off, with a smile. "I have life savings for that. Well, had."

Pete set the bass back down in its case gently and looked at the boy with wide-eyed shock.

"Mikey," he breathed, unable to think of much to say in response to the situation. "Thank you! You really didn't have to do this, you know?"

"Well, I did." Mikey smiled and rested his elbows on the table. "You're welcome."

"I can't accept this," Pete said, pushing the case towards Mikey. "You deserve to keep your life savings, you-"

"No!" Mikey exclaimed. "I got this specifically for you. If you're not willing to take it as an apology gift, will you take it as a birthday gift? I know it's tomorrow-- well, technically today."

Pete's head shot up to look at Mikey.

"How'd you know it's my birthday?" he asked, tilting his head.

"I heard some of your roadies talking about it earlier." He smiled at Pete. "You're twenty... five now, right?"

"Twenty-six," Pete corrected, with a soft smile. "Good guess, though."

"Happy birthday," said Mikey, pushing the case back towards Pete. "Here."

"Fine," Pete agreed, taking the case and setting it down beside him, with a chuckle. "Thank you, Mikey. You've got a real good heart, you know?"

"Thanks," Mikey blushed furiously. "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. If my band finds out, they'll kill me."

"I know the feeling," Pete sighed and rested his chin in his hands. "I'm sorry you have to go through this feud of ours. You really don't deserve to be a part of this."

"It's ok," Mikey admitted, with a sigh. "I feel a little better knowing there's someone on the other side who feels like I do. Is it the same for you?"

"Yeah," Pete grinned. "Yeah, it is."

"So, does this make us even?" Mikey asked. "I mean, you did punch me, so I think we are."

"God, I'm so sorry about that," Pete cringed. 

"It's all good. Nothing I can't handle. Like I said, I'm from Jersey." Mikey stretched his hand out to shake Pete's hand. "Even?"

Pete looked at the boy's outstretched hand and smiled before taking it and giving it a firm shake.

"Even."


	5. Any Other Night

"Thanks again, Mikey." 

"Please, don't mention it."

Mikey giggled and blushed in the cool early morning air. He tucked his hands into his pockets and listened to the gritty sound his shoes made as they rubbed up against the rough street. Pete gripped the case of his new instrument tightly, and hoisted it up to rest on his hip.

He glanced up at Mikey quickly and wondered how he could possibly be so kindhearted to someone he'd been told was the enemy. He wondered how such a kind soul could have possibly been caught up in such a complicated situation.

"What are you looking at?" Mikey smiled back at Pete, who, in turn, blushed softly. "Me?"

"Yeah," Pete said, not missing a beat. "I was wondering, um... how tall you are." 

"That's a random thought," Mikey laughed, his eyes crinkling with happiness. "5'10." How 'bout you?"

"5'5," " Pete responded, with a sigh. "God, even people younger than me are taller than me! How old are you again? Twenty-three?"

"Seventeen," Mikey corrected, with a chuckle. "But good guess."

Pete stopped walking and looked up at Mikey, eyes wide with shock. He was aware that Mikey was young, but it wasn't until that moment he realized just how much younger he was. 

"Seventeen?" He asked. Mikey nodded. "You're kidding!" 

"Everyone's surprised when I tell 'em that," Mikey explained, a sort of heaviness in his voice. 

"Seventeen and already in a band," Pete commented, with a disbelieving smile. "Crazy, right?"

"Don't you have people in your band who started around that age?" Mikey asked, sheepishly. "I don't know that much about you guys, but that'd be my guess."

"Yeah, actually." Pete thought back to the origin story of his band with a grin. "Patrick was seventeen. Joe was sixteen, I think."

"Not so far-fetched now, huh?" Mikey laughed, suddenly feeling a little better about the situation he was in.

"I guess not." 

Pete looked up at the sky, and saw that the sun was beginning to appear over the horizon. The white-yellow glimmer of the orb in the sky made the stars disappear and gradually turned the dark night sky a lighter shade of blue. He sighed and took in the beautiful sight. 

"Sun's up," Mikey observed, with a yawn. "The rockstar's signal to call it a night."

"What?"

"That's what the guys always told me," Mikey explained, a bit of nervousness in his voice, as if he were afraid he'd just said the wrong thing. "Isn't that how you see it?"

"Maybe right now," Pete pondered. "But any other night—or morning, I guess—I'd say no. This time is perfect for songwriting. If I weren't so tired, I'd definitely be writing a song right now."

"About what?" Mikey asked, a sheepish and curious grin on his face. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Pete chuckled at his own playful jab and so did Mikey. "Truth is, I'm not so sure. Maybe about myself, about my fans, about this city, maybe about-" 

He paused.

"What?" Mikey asked, with a head tilt.

"Nothing," Pete brushed off, breaking his gaze away from his new friend. "I'm sorry, but the guys like to get up early and, uh, I should probably get going." 

"Oh, um," Mikey's smile disappeared as he spoke. "Ok, Pete. See you later?" 

"Maybe." Pete shrugged, really not sure of what was to come in the future. He really did like Mikey, he just didn't know how the two of them could continue to meet up without anyone getting suspicious. 

"Ok." Mikey forced a soft smile and looked down at Pete before making his way back to the tour bus. "It was really nice talking to you." 

"You too, Mikey." 

The two new friends parted ways and Pete was left to watch the morning sky alone. He looked up and wondered exactly how tomorrow was going to be. He always of the sunrise as the most hopeful part of the day, but that morning, all he could do was dread the day ahead of him. 

He had to make it seem like the night he'd just had was just like any other night. That was going to be hard.

***

"Pete! Pete!" 

Pete's eyes flickered open to the sight of his band members all gathered around his bed, waking him up. He groaned and pulled the sheets over his face as the light made its way to his eyes.

"Wow, this is a different side of you," Patrick commented. "You're usually the one waking us up."

"Not today." Pete's voice was muffled by the sheets. "Can you please just give me a minute more?"

"Tough night last night?" Joe asked, concerned for his friend's wellbeing.

"Yeah, you could say that," Pete grumbled, half asleep.

"Tell us!" Patrick shook Pete awake and pried for information. "What'd you do?"

Pete opened his eyes and looked over at his band mates, who were all gathered around him, expecting a good answer. He considered lying and giving them what they wanted for a moment, before sighing and sitting up, with a stretch.

"Nothing."

"What?" Patrick spat this word at Pete with surprise and attitude. "Nothing? You didn't do anything to them?" 

"Well, I was going to," Pete explained, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I was gonna spray paint a nasty message on their bus, but I thought that'd be too obvious." 

The others collectively sighed and rolled their eyes.

"I guess so," Joe reasoned, disappointment still dripping from his voice. 

"What about your bass, though?" Andy brought up, furrowing his brow. "If someone touched my drums, they'd be dead." 

"Pete, we'll help you come up with another plan." Patrick massaged his temples anxiously. "One that's better. More life-ruining."

"Patrick, what happened to you?" Pete tilted his head and grinned, hoping to calm his friends down a little bit. "You're the sweetheart, remember? You're not supposed to be mean." 

"They happened." Patrick hissed, flatly. "C'mon, guys. I scheduled us a couple extra hours in the studio before soundcheck and we should probably get a little something to eat. Maybe that'll get our minds cleared."

"Ok," Pete said, sitting up and letting the sheets cascade off of his body with a stretch. "I'm up."

"Um," Patrick said, gazing over his friend's tattooed body once over and looking away. "Maybe you should start by putting on a shirt?"

"Hey, I paid a lot of money for these." Pete gestured to his tattoos with a sly smirk and struck a pose. "Why cover them up?"

He was silenced as Joe wordlessly tossed a shirt in his direction. Pete sighed and pulled the shirt over himself quickly.

"You're a bunch of prudes," He pulled the bottom of the shirt down to cover his midriff and stepped out of bed. "Let me put on some jeans and eyeliner and we can go."

"Pete, wait." Andy lifted Pete's new bass case from its resting place at the foot of the bad and opened it up. "Is this a new bass?" 

"Oh!" Pete turned back and looked at the other band members. They were all eyeing the new instrument with wide eyes. "Yeah, it's new. A birthday present to myself, ya know?"

"It's his birthday, guys." Patrick said this to the other guys, as if he had forgotten and was trying to cover it up. Andy and Joe had also seemed to forget, but they joined in on Patrick's act and pretended they had remembered. Pete furrowed his brow and looked back over at his band members.

"You guys forgot, didn't you?" Pete already knew the answer, he was just waiting for the truth.

"No, Pete!" 

"We'd never forget!"

"We're your best friends!"

The three of them exchanged nervous smiles at each other as Pete stared them down. 

"Guys, let's go," Patrick said, trying to get himself and the others out of Pete's line of vision. "Let's go, um, get the car started! Pete, take your time." 

The three of them flocked out of the room and left Pete by himself. He sighed and looked over at his new bass, whose case had been left open in the shuffle.

"They fucking forgot," he muttered, snapping the case shut. He looked over his gift one more time and smiled a bit. 

"At least there's someone who remembered."

*** 

"Mikey, hurry your ass up! We're gonna be late to soundcheck!" 

"I'm going as fast as I can, Frank!" Mikey breathed, rushing down the stairs with the rest of his band. "Besides, I'm not the one who made us late." 

"I heard that, you little shit," Frank snapped, angrily.

"I wasn't whispering," Mikey snapped back, without hesitation. He knew Frank was more than likely to push him down those concrete stairs, but he didn't care at all.

"Stop being such assholes. Both of you. You're making my headache worse." Gerard put a hand up to his temple.

He would have done a bit more to fight back, but he really wasn't feeling good enough to do much of anything. From how awful the rest of the guys looked and how sick they all were, Mikey figured that the party he hadn't been invited to was awesome. He was slightly bitter about not being invited, but he was also a little bit relieved.

"You'd better not talk back to me again, Mikey," Frank threatened. "Or-"

"Or what?" Gerard interrupted, with a snarl. "Because if you lay a finger on my brother, I won't hesitate to fucking murder you." 

Frank frowned and angrily shifted his gaze back to Mikey.

"Good thing your brother's there to protect you," He snarked, passing the boy and giving him a gentle shove to the side. Ray and Bob both passed him as he composed himself.

"Don't listen to Frank," Gerard comforted, clapping his brother on the shoulder bracingly. "He's a dick sometimes, but he's all talk." 

"I could have fought him." Mikey's eyes darted downwards, and then back up, as he said that. "You didn't have to step in."

"Stop being such a pain." Gerard covered his stomach and doubled over with alcohol-induced sickness. He picked himself up and stood up a little straighter. "Then, maybe, people won't be so mean to you. That'd definitely lift a burden off of me."

"Is that all I am to you?" Mikey furrowed his brow. "A burden?"

"Here, let's try something." Gerard stood up a little straighter and looked his brother in the eye. "Maybe just try keeping your thoughts to yourself."

Mikey have his brother a look that clearly said 'are you fucking kidding me?'

"Ok, better," Gerard smiled weakly. "Maybe lose the faces too, though. I know! Just keep a poker face! You were always amazing at poker!"

"Oh, like this?" Mikey struck his famous poker face and remained silent as he stared his brother down.

"Perfect!" Gerard beamed, rushing out of the door. "Just do that! The guys are calling us, come on!" 

"But I was-" he didn't get to finish his sentence before Gerard was out of earshot. He resorted to mumbling the last part of his sentence to himself. 

"-being sarcastic." 

He followed the band down the stairs and saw that they had all gathered in a little circle around the door of the tour bus and seemed to be muttering softly to each other. 

"Guys, what is it?" 

"This!"

Gerard picked up a plastic bag that had been left on the floor outside of the bus. He reached into the bag and pulled out a can of white spray paint. Mikey struggled to keep his composure as he realized it was Pete's bag. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten to collect it and throw it away the night before.

"The hell?" Mikey feigned surprise at the situation. "Is that spray paint?"

"Yeah," Bob said. "Who would leave spray paint outside of our bus?"

"I'll tell you who it was." Frank was pissed. "It was Fall Out Boy. They're trying to get us back for the bass."

"Really?" Mikey grumbled, flatly. "They'd drop six cans of paint outside our bus and then just take off? What good would that do them?"

"I think they're trying to send a message," Ray thought out loud. "One that goes something like: 'we're gonna tag your bus if you don't shape up.' Or maybe they just chickened out last minute and forgot to grab the evidence."

"Wait!" Bob looked down and picked up a few more of the paint cans, counting them in the process. "-four, five, six. Mikey, how'd you know the exact number of paint cans?" 

"I guessed!" Mikey defended, moving his hands up, palms towards his band mates. It was an instinctive move, but he was hoping the others would brush it off as traditional Mikey Way sarcasm.

"Do you know something we don't, Mikey?" Gerard asked, with a sort of calm and intimidating tone.

"No," Mikey lied, looking his brother right in the eye as he did so. He hoped that false confidence would cover up his nerves.

"What, you think he did this?" Ray came to Mikey's defense as he read the label on one can of the paint. "Why would he deface his own tour bus?" 

"I don't know," Frank hissed, slinking closer to Mikey. "But something's definitely up. Look at how he's sweating."

"Maybe he's sweating because you're making him uncomfortable," Bob intervened, pulling Frank away from Mikey and giving him personal space. "He wouldn't do anything to hurt us. You know that."

"Also," Ray added, continuing to read the label. "This paint is water-based. We've taught him enough about tagging cars for him to know that this stuff's practically useless."

"It's water based?" Gerard shouted, seeming almost annoyed by the error in his enemies' plan. "They couldn't even spring for non-water based paint? Fucking idiots!" 

"Hey guys!" Frank picked up a can of paint and shook it up. "I don't know about you, but I think I've got an idea!"

The others caught on to his plan quickly, and while Gerard, Ray, and Bob all seemed to like Frank's thinking, Mikey struggled not to let his fear show on his face.

Whenever Frank had an idea, bad things seemed to follow. This wasn't going to be different.

"Wait, I've got a better idea!" Gerard picked up another paint can and shook it.

Now, Mikey really struggled to keep his composure. Whatever Frank's idea was, Gerard's idea was definitely more sinister and thought out. This wasn't going to end well.


	6. In The Spotlight, Things Are More Exciting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: homophobic slurs

"Testing! One, two, check! Check!"

"Great, guys! The mics are working perfectly!" 

"Alright, we're gonna run through the first couple songs just to test the lighting and audio and we'll be done. You know the drill."

Patrick turned to the other guys with a grin and prepared to start the show before turning back to face the empty seats.

"We're ready!" 

The lights turned out and then back on as the four band members walked onstage as if they were going out in front of a crowd. 

"Hello, Austin!" Patrick announced into his microphone, talking to the empty seats. "We're Fall Out Boy and we'll be starting with Dance, Dance." 

Pete began to play the iconic bass line and Andy joined in with the drums. Right when the song was in full swing, everything came to a grinding halt.

"Stop! Stop everything!"

It was a familiar voice: Gerard Way. He was followed by three others from his band, which was very unsettling. Something was wrong.

"Who did it?" Gerard was shouting through heavy tears. "Which one of you fucking did it? C'mon! Fess up!" 

"Excuse me," a sound manager shouted from a few rows back in the audience. "What's going on here?"

"Would you care to explain?" Frank aggressively addressed Fall Out Boy. "Huh?" 

"What the fuck?" Pete spoke up. "What are you talking about? We didn't do anything!"

"Really?" Gerard screamed, as he wiped a stream of tears from his cheek. "You don't know that someone vandalized our bus last night? You don't know that someone actually spray painted the words-" the rest of his sentence was lost in a flurry of sobs, as if he didn't want to repeat what had been written.

"What?" Patrick exclaimed, in shock. "What words?" 

"Stop playing dumb!" Frank snarled at the other band's lead singer, almost causing him to tumble backwards in fear. "We know you guys did it!" 

"What the fuck happened?" Joe stood his ground and got a little closer to the rival band before Pete stopped him. 

"Oh so you don't know?" Bob snarked, sarcasm in his voice and disbelief in his eyes.

"We obviously don't!" Andy shouted, standing up from his drums and moving to stand next to his band.

"What happened?" Pete asked, trying to keep a level head for all of the others in his band.

"Someone wrote a very offensive slur on our bus," Ray explained, a kind of venom in his voice that wasn't usually there. "We can't repea-"

"Some sick fuck wrote 'faggots' on the side of our tour bus!" Frank snapped, unable to contain his anger any further. "Any idea who that was?"

"Oh my god!" Patrick exclaimed, feeling a sudden wave of sympathy for the band wash over him. "That's awful! I'm really sorry that happened to you, but I promise, it wasn't u-"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Gerard was beyond himself with emotion as he rested in the protective circle of his band mates. "Don't even fucking try to defend yourselves! We know you did it!"

"We didn't do anything!" Patrick defended, trying to make his way closer to Gerard. Pete held him back, yet again.

"I just wanna know why," Gerard whined, sniffling and wiping tears from his face yet again. "Why would you write something like that on our bus? I know we have a history, but I wanted to make things better, you know? I thought we could get past this, but if you're gonna throw around nasty slurs like that just because I'm gay, we can't do this."

"Woah, um," Pete stammered, unaware of how to respond to the situation. He felt himself pale under the pressure of it all. "I, um, we-"

"We didn't do it!" Joe repeated. "We promise, we didn't do it!"

"You know what, say what you want." Gerard broke from the embrace of his bandmates and stood up quickly. He stormed off the stage and backstage angrily. "I'm not doing this anymore."

"Gee! Wait!" Frank called, standing up and following Gerard. The others stood up, but instead turned to face the rival band in front of them.

"Guys," Pete stepped forward to talk to the remaining members of My Chemical Romance logically. "I'm really sorry about what happened, but I swear, we didn't do anyth-"

"Look," Ray ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he looked at Pete. "Gerard is really sensitive and he's probably jumping to conclusions. We're sorry about that."

"We're not saying you're not still suspects," Bob added, side-eyeing the other band. "But Ray is right."

"Please," Patrick stepped up with Pete. "Believe us, we didn't do it."

"We'll see." Bob folded his arms and began to walk offstage. "Ray, come with me."

Ray followed Bob offstage without another word, leaving Fall Out Boy on the stage alone. Pete turned to see the rest of his band eyeing him.

"That was weird."

"You said you didn't write anything," Patrick whispered, loud enough for Pete, Joe, and Andy to hear but quiet enough so that nobody else could hear. 

"Yeah, what the fuck, Pete?" Joe chimed in, in a hushed voice as well. "'Faggots?' Really?"

"I didn't write that!" Pete defended, hushed as well. "You guys know I wouldn't write something like that!"

"I don't know what to believe with you," Patrick snipped, turning his face away from Pete.

Pete's jaw fell open at Patrick's suggestion. He began to realize that his friends didn't trust him at all.

***

Mikey walked in through the back door of the venue and over to the greenroom, and looked both ways before making his way across the hall. Before he knew it, he saw Gerard storming through, his eyes red, wiping tears from his face. 

"Gerard, is everyth-" 

"Mikes!" Gerard rushed over and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, as if he were afraid of losing him. Mikey hugged his brother back, surprised, but happy to be the recipient of a hug for the first time in a long time. "Let's go to the green room, okay?" 

"Okay." Mikey followed Gerard into the greenroom, worried about his brother's wellbeing. He shut the door behind him and watched as Gerard lounged on the couch. 

"Gerard, what's wro-"

"Can it." Gerard's voice had gone from broken and emotional to strong and normal in the blink of an eye. He blotted his eyes with a cold paper towel casually, and soon, the red puffiness under his eyes was gone. He looked like normal again.

"Gerard, what the hell?" Mikey exclaimed. "Were you crying in there? I thought you were just gonna be a little upset."

"Mikes," Gerard chuckled and walked up to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Being 'a little upset' didn't get me an A plus in drama, ok? I had to make them feel something. Did you get the bus washed?" 

"Yeah," Mikey sighed, his eyelids half shut with annoyance. "I got most of it off, and there's not too much damage." 

"Good boy," Gerard said, reaching up and scruffing up his younger brother's hair playfully. Mikey smacked Gerard's hand away from him and backed away slowly. 

"Oh, what's wrong with you?" Gerard bickered, as if he were arguing with a child. "You suddenly opposed to our bad morals? Tough!"

"I don't know, Gee," Mikey worried, sitting back in the couch. "Did we take it too far this time?"

"It's a little late to be asking that, don't cha think?" 

Gerard grabbed a soda from the mini fridge and popped off the cap with his teeth. As he sipped from the bottle, the door opened and Frank sauntered in. He shut the door and immediately started laughing.

"Frank, that was amazing!" Gerard commended, sipping at his drink. "God, I felt that anger coming from you. Who told you you couldn't act?"

"I failed drama," Frank grinned. "But maybe that's because I missed so many classes." 

Bob and Ray burst through the door, one after the other and shut it behind them.

"Ray, good job," Gerard complimented. "You really made it seem like you were sorry for me but also kind of flustered and annoyed. Good job kind of letting them know you see their point of view."

"I wasn't acting," Ray muttered under his breath, as he sat on the couch next to Mikey. Mikey heard what he had said, and he couldn't help but quietly chuckle a little bit.

"Ray, did you say something?"

"Nothing." Ray lounged back on the couch and grinned over at Mikey. Mikey suppressed a laugh and tried to keep a straight face.

"Bob," Gerard turned his attention to Bob. "That wasn't great. You seemed a little, um... what's the word?"

"Cardboard?" Bob suggested. 

"Yeah, that's the word." Gerard grinned and lounged on the love seat next to the couch. "Cardboard."

"He was fine," Frank defended, joining Gerard on the love seat and resting his feet on his friend. "Maybe not by your standards, but he definitely held his own out there. We just fucking rocked their world."

"Whatever." Gerard settled in his seat, used to the fact that Frank constantly got in his personal space and used him as a footrest. He really didn't mind it at all.

Mikey observed the scene around him, practicing keeping a poker face, just as Gerard had told him to, despite the fact that worry of taking things too far was eating him up.

***

"Thank you, Austin!" Gerard shouted into his microphone. 

The night before, the audience that had showed up to see My Chemical Romance was very small. Word must've spread fast, because on their second and final night in Austin, the crowd was packed into the venue like canned sardines to see the band.

"Thank you so much," Gerard smiled and let the cheers of the giant crowd wash over him. "It means so much to me to see all of you here for us. Especially after the fucking day we've had."

"Oh no," Pete said, as Gerard spoke to the audience. "Guys, he's gonna say we did it."

"Shit." That was all Patrick could say before turning back to the stage and waiting for the audience to turn on him. "We're fucked."

"I'm sure word has gotten out of what happened." Gerard brushed his long black hair out of his face as he spoke. "We wanted to let you guys know that, even though there's assholes who'll try to bring you down, you're fucking amazing just the way you are! Whoever you love, whoever you fuck, whoever you decide to be, that makes you fucking gorgeous to us! No amount of cowardly fucking hate crimes is gonna fucking stop us!" 

The audience cheered louder than they had before. A lot of the people in the crowd had even started crying. The love in the room that flowed to the band onstage was undoubtable.

"Wow," Gerard smiled looking out at all of the faces in the crowd who were cheering him on. "The feeling I'm feeling right now is indescribable. I fucking love you all so much." 

His voice seemed to break a little as he spoke, and the audience responded positively. 

"This next song is one of my personal favorites," Gerard took a breath and composed himself before continuing his act. "It's called 'You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison.'"

They started their song, and as Gerard began to sing the vocals, many of the audience members began to sing along. Gerard gasped in shock and continued singing with an uncontrollable smile.

"Look at all of them!" Patrick scoffed, as he swept his gaze across the audience. "They're crying! What's happening?"

"That was a really nice speech," Pete admitted, turning his attention away from the audience and towards his bandmates. "And you have to admit, this is an awesome-"

"Holy shit!"

"Joe, what happened?"

"Gerard just went in for the kiss with one of his guitarists- the short one." 

"What?" Pete looked back at the show onstage and focused on Gerard. Frank walked more towards center stage to play a guitar solo, and Gerard had his eyes locked on him. Before anyone could process what had happened, Gerard rushed over to Frank, grabbed a handful of his hair, and kissed him on the mouth passionately.

The audience gasped and fell silent for a moment in shock before resuming their loud cheering. Frank seemed surprised at first, but as he felt Gerard's tongue in his mouth, he lost all inhibitions. He dropped his guitar and wrapped his arms around Gerard's body, pulling him closer. The others in the band all stopped playing for a second in unison to watch the scene unfold. 

Before the sexy moment was finished, Gerard pushed Frank away and continued the song. The audience was screaming, Frank and Gerard were both smiling and blushing like idiots, Ray and Bob were both laughing uncomfortably, and Mikey looked as if he were shocked, but trying to keep a straight face.

Fall Out Boy, meanwhile, watched from backstage, their jaws practically on the floor. They couldn't believe what they'd just seen.


	7. Surprises, Secrets, and New Beginnings

"People are already talking about this."

"What?" Patrick turned his attention to Joe as he spoke. "Talking about what?"

"Gerard and Frank." He switched off his phone and switched on the TV. He was right: the report on the news chronicled exactly what happened before and during the concert, in detail. It contained pictures and clips taken by fans at the concert.

"This is crazy." Patrick buried his face in his hands and took a seat on the brown couch in front of the TV. "It hasn't even been four hours."

"At lease they didn't blame us for the paint," Pete reasoned, with a sigh.

"They still have the opportunity to," Andy reminded, plopping down on the couch and downing a bottle of beer. 

"Pete, you fucked up." Joe switched off the TV and lounged on the recliner, totally defeated.

"I didn't fucking do anything," Pete spat, venom in his voice. "How many times do I have to fucking tell you?"

"Pete, you told us you were gonna spray paint a nasty message." Joe seemed adamant about his own thoughts. "You can't change the story when things don't go your way."

"I didn't do anything," Pete repeated, his eyes narrowing in anger. "I was going to, but I didn't."

"Fucking hell, Joe!" Patrick stood up and defended his friend. "Stop blaming all of this on Pete!"

"Someone's changed their tune," Joe scoffed at Patrick's sudden defense of Pete.

"Tensions were high," Patrick stressed, turning to Pete. "I implied things I didn't mean. Pete, I'm sorry. I know it wasn't you." 

"Thank you." Pete's eyes widened in stunned surprise and his brow furrowed with slight confusion. He really didn't know what to say, but thanking the one who was defending him seemed right.

"I'm with Patrick on this one," Andy chimed, standing up and joining Patrick next to Pete. "Pete didn't do this."

Pete felt a relieved chill run through his bones as Patrick and Andy stood by him, literally and metaphorically. 

"You're right," Joe sighed, sadly. "Pete, I'm sorry for blaming you." Before another word could be spoken, they heard a knock at their door.

"I'll get it," Patrick offered, dashing from the altercation and towards the knock. He opened up the door and as soon as he saw who was behind it, his expression went from friendly to angry.

"Hey." Gerard sheepishly smiled and waved at the other band's lead singer as he spoke. "Can I please come in?"

"What do you want?" Patrick growled, pondering whether or not to slam the door in the uninvited guest's face. "Spit it out."

"I just want to talk," Gerard spoke with authenticity. "The others are clearing out our greenroom, so I thought I'd stop by. This is important."

"Is it?" Patrick cocked an eyebrow at the taller man in front of him.

"You can come in," Pete reasoned. "But we're kicking you out the second you start to cause trouble." 

His band members looked at him with a bit of surprise on their faces, but they weren't about to disagree with his judgement.

"That's understandable," Gerard affirmed. "Thank you."

He stepped into the room, and as soon as he did, he felt every eye on him. The discomfort in the room could be cut with a knife.

"Nice room you got," he commented, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Well, you came to talk," barked Patrick. "Fucking talk."

"It's about what happened today." Gerard took the high road in the situation as he took a seat on the love seat.

"Listen," Gerard continued. "I got really hurt when I woke up this morning and saw... that... on our bus. It's a really sensitive topic for me, and I jumped to conclusions."

He shuffled in his spot uncomfortably before continuing.

"We have a history, I know, but it was stupid of me to think you'd do something like that. You guys really don't seem like the type to discriminate. I'm sorry for reacting so harshly."

"Wow," Joe exclaimed, actually surprised at what Gerard had said.

"Thank you for seeing things our way." Patrick seemed relieved, yet still skeptical.

"We'd love to make it up to you." Gerard smiled as he thought of what to say next. "The Fourth of July is coming up next month. The guys and I usually put together a barbecue, and I was wondering if you guys wanted to join us. Maybe we could talk? Smooth things over? What do you say?"

If Gerard's apology wasn't surprising enough, his peace offering definitely was. The men of Fall Out Boy looked at each other, each unsure exactly how to respond and looking to each other for an answer.

"We'll be there." Pete answered, without thinking about it too much. The others looked at him, a hint of concern in their eyes, wondering if he had made the right decision.

"Great!" Gerard shot up quickly from his seat. "I should probably get going. The guys are waiting for me." 

He made his was through the room and out the door before turning around and leaning against the doorframe for a moment. 

"Thanks for letting me talk to you guys. Means a lot to me." 

He left with a smile and a sort of lightness in the way he walked. It was as if he had just done something he had been dreading and it had turned out to not be as bad as he thought it was going to be. Fall Out Boy, on the other hand, had no idea how they were supposed to feel. Not even Pete.

"What just happened?" Andy questioned, wondering if he had possibly hallucinated for a moment.

"We're going to a Fourth of July barbecue with My Chemical Romance." Pete could hardly believe the words that were coming from his own mouth.

The four of them were all too tired to think about the situation very hard, but in that moment, Pete began to think the decision that had been made was going to be a good one. He wondered if smoothing things over with the other band had a possibility of being effective.

He also wondered what the possibility was of things backfiring.

***

"You alright, Mikey?" Ray lifted a box from the couch, yet kept his attention to Mikey as well. "Need help?"

"I got it." Mikey lifted up another, bulkier box and grinned over at Ray. "Thanks, though."

"C'mon, guys, let's move it." 

Bob barged into the room, lifted up two medium boxes, and left without another word. He showed much more of a hustle than the others; while his band mates had made one or two trips from their green room to their tour bus, he had made four.

"You sure?" Ray looked back over at Mikey. "That stuff is bulky. And delicate."

"Oh yeah, cause I break things, right?" Mikey rolled his eyes and passed Ray in a huff. Ray trailed close behind the boy.

"Mikey, I'm sorry," Ray sympathized. "I didn't mean it like that. Things have been crazy lately, and I know the others have kind of been taking it out on you. Gerard especially. It's not fair, I know."

"What would you know?" Mikey turned to face Ray, getting a better grip on the box as he did so. "Gerard's not your brother. You haven't had to deal with him for your whole life."

"You're right," Ray reasoned. "I've known him for a long time now, though. I know he can be a little, um... what's the word?"

"Bitchy?" Mikey suggested.

"You said it, not me." Ray chuckled softly. "I think I'd say 'difficult.' He's always overthinking things, you know?"

"Yeah," Mikey smiled a little before going back to his straight face. 

"He just wants everything to be perfect," Ray explained, with a sigh. "Especially now that Fall Out Boy is involved. That kind of tension can drive a person to do terrible things. He really does love you, he's just been... caught up lately."

"Doesn't seem like it." Mikey rolled his eyes. "Seems like all I am is a waste of space to him."

"Brothers are tough," confided Ray, a knowing kind of tone in his voice. "One minute, you wanna kill 'em, the next, the two of you are bonding over some stupid thing and laughing together. My brother used to piss me off so much, but if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here doing what I love for a living right now. It's stuff like this that makes all of that shit worth it. Now, get a move on, kid. We gotta get this stuff on the bus fast."

Ray adjusted his grip on the box and passed Mikey, leaving the boy to think about what he'd just heard. Mikey followed, a comforted smile spreading across his face.

"Thank you, Ray,"  he uttered, just loud enough for Ray to hear. The curly-haired guitarist responded to the boy with a nod and a smile, wordlessly acknowledging his gratitude.

"There they are!" Frank set a box down inside the tour bus and confronted Ray and Mikey as they walked up. "You guys, what are you doing? Bob's made like seven trips already-"

"Frank, stop." Gerard stepped out of the bus, buttoning up the top button of his shirt quickly. "They're doing fine."

"Fine," Frank sighed, looking over at Gerard and taking his hand gently. Gerard blushed like a schoolgirl with a crush as his fingers intertwined with Frank's and he looked into his eyes. Mikey attempted to look at anything other than Gerard and Frank, not exactly sure how to process the new relationship going on between the two of them.

"Here, you guys take these in, we'll get the rest." Ray set down the box he was carrying and signaled Mikey to put down the box he was carrying as well. "I think there's only two or three boxes left anyway, right?" 

"I think so," Mikey guessed, shrugging his shoulders unconfidently.

"Great!" Gerard let go of Frank's hand and grabbed the box Mikey had been carrying. "Frank, get the other box."

"Okay!" Frank gushed, picking up the remaining box and following Gerard, his eyes fixed on the singer.

"One more trip," Ray reminded, nudging Mikey on the shoulder. "C'mon. I wanna get back on the road soon."

"Wait!" Gerard peeked out of the bus and waved an arm to catch Mikey's attention. "Why don't you hang back a second, Mikes? I actually wanna talk to you."

"See you later, then." Ray took off on his own and left Mikey to deal with Gerard and Frank alone.

"What?" 

Mikey climbed onboard the bus and sat down on his bunk in front of Gerard and Frank, who were both sitting on Gerard's bunk. Gerard perched daintily, his legs bent and tucked under him and his right arm supporting him as he leaned towards Frank. Frank reclined comfortably, one leg crossed over the other and his focus completely fixed on Gerard.

"Frank, can you go check and see if there's any more boxes?" Gerard asked, placing a hand softly on Frank's shoulder. The two locked eyes for just a moment, Frank with eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in captivation, and Gerard more subdued, his eyes half-closed and contented. Frank suddenly tore his gaze away and left, as Gerard had instructed him to, shutting the door behind him with a loud clang.

"So, you and Frank, huh?" Mikey leaned back on his arms and kicked his feet back and forth out of habit.

"You're not against it, are you?" Gerard crossed his legs in front of him and leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke to his brother. 

"No!" Mikey defended, losing his composure for just a moment before going back to his poker face. "I mean, no, I'm not against it, it's just-"

"Weird?" Gerard completed the sentence for his brother, with a head tilt and a chuckle. "I know. Nobody wants to be the one with the gay brother."

"I don't give a fuck if you're gay," Mikey affirmed, defensively yet coolly. "I'm just a little surprised you chose Frank."

"Yeah, about that," Gerard hinted, his eyes darting to the ground for a second before returning to Mikey. "I have to tell you something. It's something I can't tell the others and that I had to convince myself to tell you."

"What is it?" Mikey marveled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me." 

"Frank and I aren't really 'together' that way." Gerard exhaled before continuing to speak and Mikey listened, in total captivation. "I thought it would be a good idea to make a statement after our incident, though, and I knew he'd be cool with it."

"Oh my god." Mikey covered his mouth with one of his hands dramatically as he heard that. "Does he know?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gerard rolled his eyes as if Mikey's question were the most idiotic in the world. "Of course he fucking knows. You don't get into a fake relationship without letting them know. How fucked up do you think I am?" 

"Sorry." Mikey put his hands up in front of him defensively for a moment as he uttered his weak apology. "I just wasn't sure-- what, with the way he was looking at you and all."

"That's all an act." Gerard sat up straighter, as if he were actually filling up with self-confidence. "I taught him a few tricks of the trade and told him to keep the act going in front of you, Bob, and Ray along with everyone else. I figured if you guys believe it, everyone else will too. He doesn't know I told you, though, so shh!" 

"Okay," Mikey pondered. "But why would you just fake a relationship out of nowhere? That doesn't make sense."

"Think about it." Gerard stood up from his seat and explained everything to Mikey as if he were reading from a powerpoint presentation. 

"We have complete leverage over Fall Out Boy now; if they cross us, we could tell the world they spray painted some slur aimlessly on our bus. That's good blackmail, but do you know what's better blackmail? Outing them as actual homophobes! Believe it or not, we have a really open and loving fanbase; one that's only gonna get bigger as this tour goes on. We've got a lot of gay and gay-supporting fans, and so does Fall Out Boy: imagine what their fans would do if they found out their darling band committed a petty hate crime just because we've got gay people in our band! Any dirtbag can spray paint nasty words on a bus, but it takes a real scumbag to spray paint a homophobic slur on the bus of a band that's at least two-fifths gay... That's where Frank and I come in." 

"That's awful," Mikey cringed. "So you're just gonna lie to all of them? All the people who love you and trust you?" 

"It's not a big deal." Gerard shrugged off the thought and grinned proudly. "We just have to give the audience what they want for a little bit: make out a few times on the stage, drop hints in interviews, maybe let the paparazzi get a few shots of us on dates, et cetera, we just won't do anything when we're alone. Then, after a little while, we'll 'break up,' lead separate lives, and it'll be the end of it. It's a small price to pay to have the upper hand. Fall Out Boy is putty in our hands."

"You can't just lie about being in a gay relationship to get what you want." 

"That's neither here nor there," Gerard declared. "You know, with Frank and I keeping this act up almost twenty-four/seven, I don't think it really counts as lying. We are two guys in a 'relationship,' aren't we? The important thing is that I'm not actually into him and I know that he isn't actually into me either. We're good."

Mikey opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn't think of a single argument off the top of his head. Gerard had obviously thought ahead immensely and had dedicated a lot of time and effort into his ludicrous plan. He knew his brother wasn't about to turn back on his plan, so he just kept his thoughts to himself. Just like Gerard had told him to. 

"So that's it?" 

"That's it." Gerard grinned and sat back down on his bunk. "Now, I need you to keep all of that to yourself; I know how good you are at keeping secrets, so I know you can keep it quiet."

"Gotcha." Mikey leaned back and held himself up with his arms comfortably. "Why'd you tell me, though? You didn't tell the others."

"Because you're my brother and I love you," Gerard admitted, smiling with his eyes as well as with his mouth. "I don't like keeping secrets from you, you know? Oh, that reminds me: there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about. It's your stage prescience..." 

Mikey's face paled as he heard those words escape Gerard's mouth. He knew that he had problems with being on the stage, he just didn't know that it was so obvious.

"Gerard, I'm so sorry," Mikey apologized. "I-I swear, I'm gonna try harder! I-"

"Mikey, calm down. I'm not mad at you." Gerard spoke with a comforting tone, which surprised Mikey. "I just think you could do with a little help. I would like to give you some pointers before our next show, if you'll let me."

"Thanks, bro." Mikey smiled for a second, in spite of himself. "I appreciate it."

Just then, the two of them heard a knock at the door, followed by Bob shouting at them to open up. Gerard sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Coming, Bob!" Gerard shouted. He got up from his bed with exasperation and walked over to the door. "Mikey, you can lie down and try to sleep if you want. The three of us are just gonna get the rest of the stuff in the bus and Ray said he'd drive tonight." 

Before Gerard opened the door, he drew his hand back momentarily and turned back to Mikey.

"Good talk."

He opened the door and the other three piled in, each carrying the last three boxes. Ray seemed to be ending a phone call with someone else as he carried a box into the bus. Mikey suddenly shot up with a start and ran his hands over the pockets of his pants to check if his phone was there. It wasn't.

"Shit!" Mikey swore, digging his hand into one of his pockets, even though he knew his phone wasn't gonna be there. "Guys, I left my phone in the greenroom. I'm gonna go and get it real quick."

"Ok, just come back fast." Bob threatened, gazing angrily at Mikey. 

Without another word, Mikey rushed out of the bus and made his way over to the greenroom. Seeing the venue almost empty was a dazzling sight to see: there was a certain serenity to seeing a place that was once so crowded be so empty. Mikey had never witnessed anything like it before. He took it all in as he gazed through the curtain and out at the empty seats. The only sounds that could be heard were his own footsteps, the creaky wood floor, and--

"Mikey?" 

Mikey turned around rapidly in fear, only to see that it was Pete. He felt relieved to see a friend, yet anxious to see a rival.

"Hi, Pete."

"We need to talk." Pete stormed over to Mikey, which was sort of intimidating despite the height difference of the two. 

"What happened last night? With the pai-"

"Shh!" 

Mikey put a finger over his own mouth and darted his eyes back and forth to check if anyone was coming. Without saying another word, he grabbed a set list someone had left backstage and a pen and scribbled something on the back of it. He handed the paper to Pete and darted away to grab his phone and dash back to the bus.

Pete took the paper in his hands and opened it up. It read: 

"Can we talk about this over breakfast?" 

Under the little note was a hastily jotted down phone number.


	8. More Than A Pretty Face

"Hi, welcome to Moonlight Diner. Follow me, hon, I'll get you a table."

"Thank you, but I'm actually meeting someone here," Pete explained to the waitress. "Did you see a kid come in here? Tall and skinny? 'Bout ninety percent leg? Probably wearing a coat with lots of complicated zippers and a jaunty-ass scarf thinking he looks cool?"

"It's not like you're any cooler!" Mikey called out, from a booth closer to the back of the diner. Pete looked back and laughed as he saw the boy grinning back at him. 

"There he is."

The waitress handed Pete a menu and let him navigate through the tiny diner and to Mikey's table alone.

"How are you?" Mikey greeted simply, with a yawn.

"Tired," Pete responded, flatly. "I fell asleep on the bus on the way over here. I woke up and I realized I was late. I'm sorry, Mikey-"

"It's fine," Mikey breathed, trying to comfort Pete as best he could, though he was very tired as well. "I should've scheduled this for six or something. Four is too early."

"Then the others would've seen us," Pete explained, stretching his arms up over his head for a moment. "Six would've been too conspicuous."

The two of them halted the conversation for just a moment as a waitress swung by, offering Pete a cup of coffee, which he accepted. 

"Mikey," Pete started, looking over at Mikey with a serious expression.

Mikey looked up from his coffee and looked at Pete over his glasses. Suddenly, he was caught in the middle of something bigger than himself. He wanted to tell Pete exactly what happened the night before and that he'd had no part of it, but he also didn't want to spill Gerard's elaborate plan. That would run the risk of Gerard finding out he was telling secrets. He had no idea what he was going to say.

"Are you okay?" 

That definitely wasn't the question Mikey had thought Pete would ask. He was partly relieved, yet still worried about where the conversation was going to go.

"Yeah," Mikey answered, looking back down at his coffee mug. "Well, not everything, but you get it."

"Yeah," Pete sighed softly. "I do."

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and folded his hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry. I came on a little strong when I asked you what happened with the paint earlier. It's just confusing to me. I thought it might have been your band for a minute, but the way they all reacted proved otherwise." 

Mikey gulped nervously as he watched Pete fall right into the trap. He wanted so badly to let Pete know what he was getting into, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Someone probably found the paint cans I left," Pete reasoned, keeping a level head. "There were a bunch of drunk idiots leaving your party looking to do some damage. That's my theory, anyway. Do you know anything about it I should know?"

"Sorry," Mikey lied, not really thinking his decision through before speaking. "I don't."

"Whatever," Pete noted, with a happy sigh. "I'm just glad this didn't end badly."

"Me too."

Mikey sipped at the last of his coffee and set his mug down on the table. Almost immediately, the waitress circled back around to their table, offering both of them more coffee. Pete passed on the offer, as his cup was still full, but Mikey accepted it happily.

"You sure you want another cup, Sugar?" The waitress questioned, an uncomfortable, concerned expression on her face. "This stuff's strong, you know?" 

"Please," Mikey practically begged. "I've got a long day ahead of me. Both of us do."

The waitress refilled Mikey's mug, somewhat reluctantly, and left the table again. Pete took the opportunity to observe Mikey's habits more closely as he sipped at his own coffee.

Mikey reached for the plain white coffee mug in front of him with both of his hands, recoiling sharply as soon as his fingers touched the hot ceramic container. He pulled at the ends of the sleeves of his jacket with his teeth so they covered his hands and tried again to grasp the cup, which turned out to be a successful endeavor. He lifted the cup up to his mouth and sipped at the beverage, not seeming to be bothered by the scalding temperature.

Pete turned his attention to his coffee after a little while. He didn't want to seem like he was staring. He touched his mug briefly and decided it was a smidge too hot to drink. Mikey set his mug down in front of him and noticed that the steam had made his glasses foggy.

"You're so lucky you don't wear glasses." He sighed as he took his glasses off and began to clean them with the hem of his shirt. Pete looked over in awe; he'd never seen Mikey without his glasses on, and he was quite interested to see the difference it made.

The glasses, it turned out, made quite a difference. Pete immediately noticed that Mikey had very pretty eyes; they were light brown and deep set, with a little leftover black eyeliner from the night before smudged in his waterlines and on the lower lids. Even though he looked tired, his gaze still held a kind of penetrating brightness and energy (maybe that was because of all the coffee he'd consumed). The rest of his face was equally as noteworthy; his jawline was sharp, his lips were slightly pouty and bow shaped, his temples were defined nicely, and his skin, though somewhat spotty with acne, had a nice glow to it. He was an attractive boy.

"Pete, are you staring at me?" Mikey asked jokingly, putting his now clean glasses back on his face.

"You wish." Pete rolled his eyes and joked back with his friend, secretly disappointed by the fact that he didn't get to see Mikey sans glasses for quite long enough. "I just noticed you have brown eyes."

"Yeah," Mikey commented. "Just like my mom."

His expression darkened and he suddenly looked sad.

"You okay?" Pete prodded, worried he'd accidentally said something wrong.

"Yeah," Mikey sighed. "It's just that I'm wondering what my mom's up to right now. I miss her."

"Have you talked to her?"

"No." Mikey held onto his warm mug, but didn't lift it to his mouth. He seemed uncomfortable to open up, but he ultimately decided to speak his mind. 

"Not in a long time, actually. She didn't want me to leave and join a band, but Gerard convinced me to run away with him a little bit ago when My Chem needed a new bass player. I felt horrible, but this was something I really wanted, you know? More than a high school degree, or a 'real job.'" 

"Parents are tough," Pete commented, recalling the turmoil he went through trying to convince his own parents that being in a band was a good life decision.  "My mom wouldn't fuckin' talk to me when I quit my job to be in Fall Out Boy full time. She told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life."

"What about now?" Mikey inquired, letting go of his mug and resting his chin on one of his hands to listen to Pete. "I mean, you did it. You made something of yourself. You're rich and famous and loved by everyone. She must be proud now, right?"

"Yeah," Pete shrugged. "But she didn't really ever mean the mean things she said. After a few days of being disappointed, she softened up. Told me she just wanted me to be happy."

"Are you happy now?" Mikey asked, with a head tilt.

"Are you?" Pete snapped, without missing a beat. Mikey's mouth dropped open, as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. All he could do was shut his mouth and sit back.

"I'm sorry." Pete hunched his shoulders in shame and looked away from Mikey for a moment. "This has been a very, um, eventful year for me. Lots of big things have been happening for me in a short span of time. Good and bad."

"Wanna talk about it?" Mikey offered. "Maybe that'll make you feel better?"

"Nah." Pete brushed off Mikey's kind offer. "It's nothing I should involve you in. Thanks, though."

"I understand." Mikey sipped at his coffee awkwardly and stayed silent for a moment, an uneasiness wafting around in the air. It was almost as uncomfortably quiet as a funeral.

"If it makes you feel any better," Pete spoke up, breaking the silence abruptly. "Maybe your mom won't be so upset now that you've made something of yourself? I mean, I don't know your mom and I wasn't a runaway, but I feel like it'd be okay to talk to her. I'm sure she'd love to hear your voice again." 

"Maybe." Mikey hunched his shoulders. "I just don't want to be the family disappointment. I ran away from home when I was so close to graduating to be the bass player of a rock band. That's, like, a mom's worst nightmare."

"You're successful," Pete reminded his friend, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. "Well, you're gonna be, anyway. You guys are gaining fans in droves right now. Before you know it, everyone'll know your name. That's far from being a disappointment, if you ask me."

"You're right," Mikey admitted, sitting up a little straighter. "Maybe I should call her. I do miss her a lot."

"You miss home, don't you?" Pete asked, a knowing grin growing on his face. Mikey looked back at Pete and smiled softly.

"Yeah," he recalled. "I had a good life over there. I was popular. I had a lot of friends. Even my teachers loved me. It kinda hurts knowing I left all of that behind."

"That's just how it is at first," Pete explained, empathetically. "You start traveling to places you've never been and all it does is remind you that you miss home. That feeling sucks for a long time, but eventually, you get used to it."

"How does that work?" Mikey rested his elbows on the table and his chin on the heel of his right hand as he talked to Pete. "Do you, like, forget where home is after a bit?"

"No," Pete corrected. "It's the other way around, actually. You eventually learn to find a 'home' in every place you go. Maybe even a little in the company you keep. That way, things aren't sad at all."

"Huh," Mikey pondered, furrowing his brow. "I've never thought about it like that. People always told me that 'home is where the heart is,' but that kinda implies that home is only one place. If that's the case, then we're all fucked."

A look of realization struck Pete as he thought of what Mikey had just said. Suddenly, he grabbed a napkin from the table and a sharpie, which he usually used when people on the street wanted an autograph, from his pocket and began to quickly scribble something down.

"What's going on?" Mikey asked, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of what Pete was writing.

"I like what you said there," Pete marveled, not looking up from the napkin. "About home being where the heart is. That'd make a good lyric."

"Oh," Mikey smiled, pleased that he'd had a thought that Pete liked so much as to write it down as a future lyric. "Um, thank you." 

"No, thank you!" Pete looked up, capping the sharpie and tucking it back into his coat pocket. Mikey caught himself smiling, and immediately reverted back to his poker face, remembering what Gerard had told him. He sipped at the last bit of his coffee with melancholy as he tried to keep from being too outwardly emotional.

"Why do you do that?" Pete's excited smile disappeared as he saw Mikey's smile fade.

"Do what?"

"You were smiling, then you forced yourself to stop." Pete leaned in and tried to make eye contact with Mikey, which he avoided. "Why?" 

"It's something I'm trying," Mikey blurted out, looking at Pete with sadness in his eyes. "I feel like I'm too emotional. I feel like keeping a straight face is the best way to get through the day without pissing anyone off." 

"That's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." Pete said, flatly. "That's some bullshit. Who told you that you bother them by having feelings? Was it your fucking brother?"

"Yeah," Mikey admitted, furrowing his brow sadly.

"I'm sorry," Pete huffed. "But your brother's a fucking idiot."

"He's no idiot," Mikey defended, thoughts running though his head that he struggled not to tell Pete.

"Ok, maybe not usually, but he is right now." Pete sat back and exhaled annoyedly. "I didn't think it'd be appropriate to say before, but I really like your smile, you know? I wanna see you do it more."

"Thank you," Mikey muttered, timidly blushing yet not changing his expression. "But I feel like the people in this industry are all such badasses. I'm just trying to fit in."

"You said you were popular in school," Pete recalled. "I'm pretty sure that's partly because you're a good-looking guy, but it's more than good looks. People with the emotional range of a wet sock don't tend to be a hit with other people."

"This is way different," Mikey murmured, his eyes darting downwards and a blush rising to his face. He was trying to continue the conversation while also trying to hide the surprise and embarrassment he felt knowing Pete had just called him a 'good-looking guy' so nonchalantly.

"I'm in this whole new world of intimidating adults when all I really know is high school. I feel so out of place."

"For fuck's sake!" Pete slid the napkin he had just written on over to Mikey. "Here. Read this. What do you think of this?"

"If home is where the heart is, then we're all just fucked," Mikey read aloud, looking up from the napkin to Pete's proud face. "I love it. It's dark. Poetic."

"They're your words," Pete explained, annoyedly trying to prove Mikey wrong. "That proves that you've got exactly the dark, poetic mindset you need to be in this industry. I'm pretty sure this is right where you're meant to be. Congratulations, you've found your place! Welcome home!"

"Welcome home," Mikey repeated to himself softly, a big, uncontrollable smile spreading across his face. "I like the sound of that!"

Pete exhaled and smiled as well, now that he'd gotten Mikey to see things as they truly were.


	9. Road To Ruin

"Stop fucking around and pay attention to me!"

"I'm paying attention, jackass!" Mikey shouted at his brother.

"Stop hunching your shoulders, then!" Gerard barked. "I've been telling you for three fucking weeks now! Get it through your head!"

Mikey immediately straightened up, as if he were being barked at by a drill sergeant.

"Not that straight," Gerard instructed, fiercely. "You don't want to make people think you're being forced to do this, you know?"

Mikey kept his posture straight, but let his shoulders relax and lowered his chin just a little bit. 

"Like this?" 

"Mikey," Gerard buried his hands in his face in exasperation. "What the fuck are you doing with your legs?" 

Mikey looked down at his own legs; his toes were pointed inward, causing his knees to point towards each other as well.

"This again?" Mikey defended, looking back up at Gerard. "I can't help being pigeon-toed!" 

Frank watched the scene unfold from the couch, munching on a bag of microwave popcorn as if he were watching a movie. Ray and Bob zoned out of the confrontation, wanting no part of the drama that was about to go down. They sat on the second couch together and pretended to be into the celebrity gossip show that was playing on the tv.

"Who the hell cares about this stuff?" Ray commented, listening to the thin woman on tv with caked-on makeup and blonde hair extensions trash celebrities as if she were better than all of them. After she was done gushing over a photo of Ryan Gosling, she switched over to another tangent.

"Did you hear the news, Brett?" She beamed with shiny white teeth as she spoke, but one look in her eyes could reveal that she was dying inside. 

"What, Nicole?"

"There's been word from Ashlee Simpson recently! I thought we'd never hear from her again after her show ended!"

The woman on tv, Nicole, did most of the talking. Her co-host, Brett, pretty much spent the whole time staring at her.

"Who the hell is Ashlee Simpson?" Bob looked over at Ray, as if he would know.

"Jessica Simpson's sister," Ray answered, flatly. "That's all I know."

"Who the hell is Jessica Simpson?"

"That airhead who married Nick Lachey and couldn't tell if Chicken Of The Sea was fish or chicken," Frank recalled quickly, not taking his eyes off of Gerard and Mikey while talking to the others. He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and chewed loudly as he spoke. 

"Now, could you guys shut the fuck up? I'm tryna watch The Way Show. It gets better every week. Don't tell anyone, but I've got a huge crush on the older brother."

"Frank, stop!" Gerard knew he was supposed to be annoyed, but he couldn't help but laugh at Frank's cute jab. Mikey, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, annoyed enough for the both of them. 

"And suddenly, it became audience interactive," Frank narrated, as if he were the narrator of a nature documentary. "What a twist! I've never seen anything like it! I'm gonna need more popcorn!" 

Ray and Bob turned their attention back to the crappy show on the tv and listened to Nicole drone about Ashlee Simpson's show and how it had just ended.

"I wonder if she'll find love soon," the male host, Brett, added, as if he were reading from a teleprompter that was slightly too far away to read clearly.

"Well, it seems she's developed a new attitude towards love in recent weeks," Nicole cackled, thinking she was cuter than she actually was. "With how much she's been talking about a certain rockstar recently, it seems that she's been asking herself: 'Why fall in love when you can Fall Out Boy?' The ex star of The Ashlee Simpson Show has been very openly crushing on Pete Wentz, the illustrious emo cutie we all know and have a serious crush on!"

"Ugh," Ray exaggerated, disgusted with the content. "I can't believe this crap gets airtime!" 

"Speaking of Fall Out Boy," Nicole continued, widening her fake smile even further, which didn't even seem feasibly possible. "Our sources are telling us that they're one month into this four-month extension of their last tour, and they're seeing uncharted numbers in revenue. Every single one of their venues has sold out, and sales have almost tripled in merch! With all of this money coming in, I'm sure we're all wondering what the big deal is!"

"It's us," Bob joked over to Ray, who responded with a soft laugh.

"Well, I'm certainly more interested in seeing the show now," Nicole continued, laughing as she spoke. "They've proved that they certainly know how to pick an opening act. This new band, My Chemical Romance, has been sweeping the nation unlike any other I've seen!" 

"Oh my God," Bob gasped. "I was right!"

"Guys!" Ray called the others. "We're on tv! This gossip show is talking about us!"

Mikey, Gerard, and Frank all went silent and turned their attention to the story on tv.

"My Chemical Romance are five cute boys from New Jersey who pack a punch when it comes to performing!" Nicole announced. "Although you guys probably know that; this band has done nothing but gather momentum this month! It's so impressive!"

"I wonder if they're gonna fade after this, though," Brett chimed in. "You know, like when bands get so popular for a little bit, and then nobody ever hears from 'em again?"

"Oh, these guys are far from being one-hit wonders! Devoted fans of this band have declared that they'll follow My Chemical Romance all the way to the grave. Others have told us they only bought tickets to Fall Out Boy's tour to see My Chem! Isn't that crazy? They're outshining the main attraction!" 

"We're outshining Fall Out Boy!" Ray shouted, loudly and happily.

"Finally!" Bob joined in. 

"Yes!" Gerard enthused, pumping a fist in the air triumphantly. Without warning, Frank tackled Gerard and wrapped him a tight embrace as the two of them fell into the couch. Gerard laughed and looked up at Frank, who was now on top of him, as he gathered his composure.

"That was sudden," Gerard breathed, with a surprised laugh. He reached up and brushed Frank's bangs out of his face quickly. 

"So's this!"

With that, Frank leaned down, grabbed the sides of Gerard's face, and tried to pull him in for a rough kiss. Gerard, however, put his fingertips up to Frank's lips gently and stopped the kiss before it even happened.

"Not now," he breathed, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't help but blush as he looked up at Frank. "Not now."

Frank understood what Gerard wanted him to do, and promptly got off of him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes and fixing his hair.

The four of them were all beyond themselves with excitement at being mentioned on tv and knowing they had outshone Fall Out Boy, but Mikey wasn't so impressed. He knew he was supposed to be excited, he just couldn't find it in himself to celebrate with the others. He felt as if something inside him had stopped working, for some reason. He wondered if something was wrong with him, but as he thought about it, he realized that he seemed to be getting yelled at less. Maybe this was a good thing.

"I'm sure you've all seen this," Nicole rolled her eyes playfully. "But I really wanna watch it again. These guys are just so cute! Here's the music video for their hit song, I'm Not Okay!"

"Ugh, turn this shit off," Gerard grumbled, not taking his eyes off of Frank. "I fuckin' hate this music video."

"How can you hate it?" Ray inquired, surprise in his voice. "You loved it when we first made it! Plus, it's the first ever proof that Mikey's in the band. You can't hate it, it's My Chem history!"

"It's nothing like my original idea, though," Gerard reasoned. "I didn't want it to be, like, just clips of us roaming around New Jersey. I had this idea of it being a fake high school movie trailer. Like, one that looks really high budget and legit."

"I have an idea!" Frank chimed in, re-painting the black X's over his eyes in the mirror. "We've got a fuck ton of money now; why don't we just re-make it?"

"Re-make it?" Bob scoffed. "Why re-make a music video? We've got other songs that we should be making videos for."

"No, I like Frank's idea." Gerard chewed at the nail of his index finger as he thought out loud. "We should do it!"

"Thanks, Babe!" Frank wrapped an arm around Gerard's waist and beamed up at him.

"Okay." Ray stood up from his seat and checked the clock on the wall. "We'll talk about it later. We don't have a lot of time before we go on, though, so we should prepare."

"How long do we have?" 

"'Bout ten minutes."

"What?" Gerard broke from Frank's grip and went to the mirror to check his makeup. "The stagehand should've told us something by now!"

"You guys are on in ten!" As if by cue, the stagehand had popped her head into the greenroom for a moment and then, just as quickly, left. 

"Alright!" Ray picked up his guitar and wrapped the strap around him. "Let's get going, guys!" 

Bob called in a few roadies to help him with the remaining parts of his drum set and he was out of the room without another word. Ray followed him shortly after.

"Mikey, please remember what I told you." Gerard turned to his brother and gave him a stern yet concerned look. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept quiet instead as he anxiously patted Mikey on the shoulder and left the room with the others. Mikey was about to follow his brother, but he felt a subtle tug at one of his sleeves and turned back.

"I might have a solution for you," Frank  proposed, a suspicious tone in his voice. "Something to make you feel better onstage."

"What is it?" Mikey pleaded with Frank, ready to accept any solution he could find. "Tell me!"

"Ok," Frank lowered his voice. "But you have to promise not to tell your brother."

Mikey nodded feverishly, not uttering a word. Frank walked over to the mini fridge and grabbed a brown glass bottle. He popped the metal cap off with his teeth and handed the bottle to Mikey.

"Drink it. Quick."

Mikey took a sip of the drink and discovered that it was beer. He was skeptical to continue, knowing that Gerard would kill him if he found out he was drinking before he was twenty-one. However, he also knew that the beverage would calm him down significantly onstage, which he knew was exactly what Gerard wanted.

He sighed and gulped at the drink, hopeful that the food in his stomach would stop him from being noticeably drunk. He had never liked beer, but he'd had his fair share of the drink at many a high school party, so he had become immune to the weird taste.

"Shit, I hear footsteps!" Frank grabbed the bottle from Mikey and put it up to his mouth quickly, finishing off the last little bit of it quickly. As soon as he had put the bottle to his lips, Gerard popped his head into the greenroom.

"Guys! Come on! We're on in like five min- Frank, what's going on?" 

"Just grabbing a beer before the show," Frank defended, coolly slinking over to Gerard's side. "You want one, Ge— Wait, never mind! I didn't mean that!"

"No," Gerard affirmed, furrowing his brow. "And be careful, ok?  
I don't like how much you've been drinking lately. You know how easy it is to overdo it. Mikey, are you okay? You look like you're gonna faint."

"I'm okay," Mikey lied, trying to keep his composure under the pressure. "Just a little nervous."

"Fuck," Gerard huffed, burying his face in his hands in his face for a moment before looking back up at Mikey. "Just get your bass and try not to fuck things up too badly for us tonight. We're on in a minute."

And with that, he brushed Frank from his side and rushed to the side of the stage, where the others were.

"Mikey, chill," Frank warned, his eyes widening at the young bassist.

"I'm sorry," Mikey responded, picking up his bass from the case it rested in and rushing out. "I'm n-"

"Don't say you're nervous again." Frank grabbed his guitar and tossed the strap over his shoulder quickly. "Just act confident, and eventually, you'll feel it. My, uh, solution is just gonna speed the process along for the night. C'mon, move your ass!"

Mikey felt a tiny bit dizzy, maybe from the fear and maybe because the alcohol was starting to kick in, but nevertheless, he pressed on. In fact, he was beginning to feel a tiny bit better than he was before. Maybe there was a truth in what Frank had said; maybe false confidence would eventually pay off for him. He could be the strong, silent type if he wanted to.

Perhaps Pete was right; maybe this was where Mikey truly belonged. He just needed a little push to truly get it.


	10. Songs About Girls

*July*

By the time July rolled around, Mikey and Pete had a routine down.

A few times a week, the two of them would drag themselves out of bed at four in the morning and meet at the nearest twenty-four hour diner to talk. Mikey would guzzle more mugs of coffee than recommended by any waiter or waitress, and Pete had learned not to question whether or not it was healthy.

Pete would usually sip at one cup of coffee at a slower pace and listen to what Mikey had to say when he'd had his coffee. He could be very funny when he was highly caffeinated. The sun always rose around five o'clock, and Pete liked to watch it and write down his thoughts on a napkin or a little piece of paper. Sometimes, Mikey would ask him about what he was writing or what he was thinking about, and Pete would answer, sometimes honestly.

One night, Pete and Mikey sat at a booth of a particularly nice little diner, a coin-operated jukebox softly playing in the background instead of some radio station. The sun came up, as it always did, and shone right through the window and onto their table with an inspiring shimmer.

"Isn't it a little early for a milkshake?" Mikey tilted his head as he watched Pete sip at the cold, tasty drink. Pete looked up at Mikey, stopping his writing for a brief moment. 

"Maybe," he admitted, chewing at his red plastic straw out of habit. "I'm just feeling this sort of milkshake vibe right now."

"Maybe it's the jukebox?" Mikey suggested, with a shrug. "Or the waitresses in poodle skirts?" 

"Does that make me James Dean?" Pete asked, half-closing his eyes and biting his lip over-dramatically.

"Well, he was short, so you've got that going," Mikey quipped, with a small chuckle.

"You watch it." Pete laughed, pointing a butter knife at Mikey in a humorous, threatening manner. Mikey's smile grew a little bit as he looked over at Pete, something that hadn't happened naturally in days. Pete took another quick sip of his drink, turning his attention back to the little notebook he had been writing in.

"So, what's the story this time?" Mikey looked over at Pete's book and tried to make out the messy, upside-down writing for himself. "Is it something dark and brooding, or is it light and cute for a change?" 

"Light," Pete smiled softly, surprising Mikey with his answer.

"What?"

"Yeah," Pete blushed a little as he spoke. "I have more sides to me than the emo side, you know?" 

"You haven't shown me any others," Mikey reminded, wrapping his hands around his half-full coffee mug. "But I believe you. Can I hear what you've got?" 

"Well, it's not a poem exactly," Pete blushed. "It's just an idea." 

"I like ideas." Mikey leaned on his elbows and rested his chin in his hands as he listened. "Spill."

"Okay." Pete cleared his throat, not because he needed to, but because he was stalling for a few seconds of time before he shared his sappy idea with his best friend. 

"Well, it's kind of a short, dumb love story. It's about this really shy guy, and he's hopelessly in love with a really shy girl. She's in love with him too, but since the two of them are so shy, neither one of them will actually speak up. One day, he gathers the nerve to approach her, and he says 'I've got this friend who's in love with a girl, but he doesn't know how to tell her.' She smiles nervously and tells him that she's also got a 'friend.' One who's in love with a boy, but she doesn't know how to tell him. It's kind of implied that the two of them figure things out and fall in love and whatnot, so this one's got a happy ending."

"Aww!" Mikey gushed, placing a hand gently over his mouth to distract from his blush. "That's so... Cute! And sensitive! I love it!"

"Don't get used to it," Pete closed his little notebook, covering up his embarrassment with false abrasiveness. "I'm probably not even gonna go through with this idea. I-"

"Who's it about?"

Pete looked up at Mikey with wide eyes, obviously caught off guard by the question. He had no idea how he was supposed to answer, he just knew he couldn't tell the truth.

"Um, what?" He was buying time.

"The idea." Mikey urged. "Who was it about? It's alright, you can tell me. I can keep a secret."

"The idea?" Pete was blushing furiously as he racked his brain for something to say. "It's not about anyone, really." 

"Every song's a little bit about someone else," Mikey grinned, noticing how adorable Pete looked when he blushed. "Who's yours about?"

"Fine," Pete sighed. "I'll tell you. It's about this girl-"

"Songs about girls," Mikey scoffed playfully. "Classic."

"Shut up," Pete quipped back, a little more comfortable knowing he'd said what he'd said. "This one was special. Mandy was her name. Knew her in high school. I loved her so much. I actually thought she was the one."

"What happened?" Mikey asked.

"A friend of mine fell in love with her too," Pete said, taking a sad sip of his milkshake; something he didn't think was possible. "Only, he was ballsy enough to fuckin' talk to her. Left me in the dust."

The story he was telling was true. Maybe not totally fitting with the situation at hand, but true nonetheless. Mikey could see that it was true and that Pete was still somewhat pained by the past. 

"Oh," Mikey spoke, dejectedly. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's okay." Pete sighed, shaking off the old feelings. "It's in the past now." 

Mikey backed out of the conversation timidly, sipping at his now lukewarm coffee. Pete tucked his small notebook in a jacket pocket and flagged down the waitress, asking for the check. Suddenly, another patron walked up to the jukebox and put in some money, picking out the next song. A familiar pop song began to play over the speakers, immediately catching both Pete and Mikey's attention.

"Lady Marmalade!" Both of them shouted at each other, in exact unison.

"You like this song too?" Mikey asked, a big smile growing on his face. 

"No shit!" Pete swore, with a laugh. "Everyone loves this song!" 

Pete got up from his seat as the song started, stretching his arm out to Mikey. 

"What?" Mikey exclaimed, not exactly sure what was going on.

"C'mon!" Pete taunted. "Get up and dance with me!"

"No!" Mikey rejected. "I'm not doing that!"

"Get the hell up!" Pete insisted. "The song's starting!"

"Pete, sto-"

"He met Marmalade at the old Moulin Rouge, strutting her stuff on the street!" 

"Okay, now you're singing," Mikey buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. "Stop, you're embarrassing both of us!"

"Not until you get up!" Pete wasn't about to let up, so Mikey finally caved and got up with him.

"What are we doing now?" Mikey asked

"Don't pretend you haven't danced to this song alone in your room before!" Pete shouted, over the music. "Just lose your inhibitions!"

He swung his hips to the beat of the sexy song and continued to sing along. 

"Voulez vous coucher avec moi! Ce soir!" 

"Do you even know what that means in English?"

"Nope!" 

Pete grabbed Mikey's hands and dragged him closer to the jukebox and tried to get him to dance. Mikey danced apprehensively at first, but by the time the first half of the song had finished, the two of them had completely lost themselves to the song, shaking their hips and dancing like strippers almost in unison. Mikey laughed, dancing to the sexual song as if nobody was watching. Pete laughed, watching Mikey have so much fun for a change. Before he knew it, Mikey was singing as well.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He belted, doing his best Christina Aguilera impression. "Touch of her skin feeling silky smooth! Color of cafe au lait! Alright!" 

"Alright!" Pete encouraged, legitimately surprised by how good Mikey's impression was. Scratch that-- how good his voice was. He wasn't even trying and yet, his voice was still easy on the ears. Pete wondered what he would sound like if he were to actually try.

"But when he turns off to sleep, memories creep, More, more, more!"

Pete jokingly catcalled loudly as Mikey finished the run with attitude and got back to dancing practically in sync with him. 

As the song came to a close the two of them ended the impromptu show singing the last part of the song in unison.

"Créole Lady Marmalade!" 

The song ended and the two of them fixed their gazes on each other, eyes wide and excited, both of them breathing hard and sweating a bit. There was applause from the waitresses and the patrons that were there-- two or three more had come in just to see the show.

Mikey looked back at the new crowd and blushed furiously in embarrassment, but also felt a rush of happiness burst through him. He liked being there.

"Wow!" He looked over at Pete. "That was so fun!" 

"I'm glad you thought so." Pete grinned and clapped Mikey on the shoulder. "Now greet your adoring public! They're waiting for you!"

Mikey laughed and took an overdramatic bow for the new audience. When Mikey straightened up again, Pete stepped closer to Mikey and whispered in his ear softly.

"Songs about girls," he parroted Mikey's exact words from before. "Classic."

* * * 

They managed to pay the check and get out of the diner without too much of a hassle. When they were finally out and back on the street, they were completely alone. 

"Oh my God," Mikey exclaimed, over-excitedly. "I can't believe you just got me to do that!"

"Felt good though, didn't it?" Pete cackled. "To break out of your shell and embarrass yourself?"

"You're the one who embarrassed us," Mikey teased.

"What, because I can't sing?"

"No, because you literally asked me if I wanted to fuck you tonight in front of those people."

Pete stopped dead in his tracks and tried to stifle a laugh.

"Hold up, what the fuck did you just say?"

"Didn't you ever take a French class?" Mikey grinned. "'Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?' That means 'do you wanna sleep with me tonight?'"

"Offer still stands," Pete joked, biting his lip over-dramatically and winking not-so-subtly at Mikey. Mikey turned bright red and buried his face in his hands in embarrassment. 

"I'm underage," Mikey reminded.

"I'm kidding!" Pete punched Mikey on the shoulder playfully. "Although I have to admit, for someone with no ass, you sure do know how to shake your ass."

"Oh my god, stop," Mikey kept his hands buried in his face in embarrassment.

"Again, kidding."

Mikey pried his hands away from his blushing face and rubbed them together to try and keep warm. It was a cold night-- colder than either of them had expected.

"You know, I had a lot of fun too." Without missing a beat, Pete peeled off the jacket he was wearing and draped it over Mikey's shoulders protectively.

"Thank you," Mikey grinned, wrapping the jacket tighter around himself. "For... Everything."

"No problem," Pete smiled, trying to ignore the fact that he was now cold. Mikey looked over at him, a soft yet happy smile on his face. 

"Pete, I'm happy you're feeling better." He slipped his arms though the jacket sleeves and cuddled the soft interior to his skin.

"What do you mean?" 

"You're happier," Mikey observed. "When I first met you, you struck me as the type with nothing but darkness and gloom in your head. Lately, you've been proving me otherwise."

"You're kind of right," Pete grinned. "It's not all darkness anymore."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Pete clasped his hands together in front of him and looked up at Mikey. "It's not. I haven't really been sad about anything these last few weeks, come to think of it."

"That's good," Mikey beamed brightly. "I'm just glad that you're starting to feel okay." 

"Thanks," Pete smiled softly and a soft blush rose to his cheeks, maybe from the cold air.

"I mean, there's still darkness in my head, but..." he paused for a moment and looked down at his hands nervously, carefully planning what he was going to say. He looked up at Mikey and spoke from his mind.

"I've found something that makes it all worth it. Well... someone... who makes it all worth it." 

Mikey looked back at Pete, opening his mouth to talk, but not uttering a word. He didn't want to ruin that moment; the one that looked like he had seen in every romantic movie he'd ever watched. Pete's eyes were wide and full of want, and stared into Mikey's soul as if it were the only thing that mattered. His lips were parted slightly, practically begging to be kissed. This was Mikey's moment.

"Fuck it." 

He pulled Pete in and leaned in, attacking his lips and tongue with his own. Pete reciprocated almost immediately, his hands wrapping around Mikey's body and grasping onto the back of the jacket he'd lent him. Mikey's hands roamed down the sides of Pete's body until they reached his hips. He grabbed at the belt loops on his jeans and pulled him closer, making his body flush with his own. He pulled away from the kiss for a moment to look at Pete's face; his blushing cheeks, his big, eyeliner-ringed eyes, his smiling mouth-- oh, what he wanted to do to that mouth right then and there...

He brushed Pete's bangs out of his face softly and sighed.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, running his fingers through Pete's hair and leaning in for another kiss.

***

"Mikey? Mikey! Snap out of it!" 

"What?"

"You just zoned out," Pete tilted his head in confusion. "For like a minute straight. How tired are you?"

"When exactly did I zone out?" Mikey was more confused than he'd ever been.

"You told me you were happy I'm doing better, I said thanks, and then you just disappeared." Pete looked at Mikey with a smirk. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere!" Mikey defended, almost sweating under the pressure. "Just, um, must've fallen asleep standing up for a second. I should get some sleep. Bye, Pete!" 

And without another word, he was off, leaving Pete in a whirlwind of confusion, which he shrugged off as he made his way back to his hotel. Mikey, on the other hand, had thoughts running through his head that he couldn't shake off if he tried.


	11. Actor

Mikey's alarm blared at four AM sharp. He groaned and shut it off immediately, not wanting to wake anyone around him up at the ungodly hour. He and the others had checked into yet another hotel for the night, although the seaside, five-star suites they'd rented were quite arguably better than the little cheap rooms they'd slept in before.

Mikey sat up on his bed with a stretch and a yawn as he looked through his window, watching the waves on the beach crashing rhythmically onto the California sand for a moment or two. The serene scene was good for soothing the butterflies he felt in his stomach, even if only for a moment.

For the first time, he felt apprehensive about going to meet with Pete. Something about the whole ordeal was different now; it was as if the friendship had been tainted. It wasn't that he didn't like Pete, it was the worry that he was starting to like Pete a little too much for his own good that made him cautious. That being said, it would seem inconsiderate and out of character for him to bail on an early-morning diner meeting with him. That would make Pete realize something was wrong with him, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

He pulled on some clothes that were lying on the ground reluctantly and opened his door, careful to not make too much noise as he did so. He shut his door and tucked his room key in his pocket without a single noise, when he heard something behind him; a hushed voice. A familiar hushed voice.

Mikey turned around and saw Gerard standing outside his own door, cell phone up to his ear and a look of genuine happiness on his face as he talked.

"Filming for I'm Not Okay just finished," he spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, but just loud enough to be heard on the other end. "It's fantastic. Just like I pictured it. I can't wait for everyone to see it." 

Mikey couldn't help but stay behind for a moment and eavesdrop on the seemingly personal conversation. He continued to lay low for a few minutes, listening to his brother's words.

"Enough about me. I wanna hear about you... I dunno, how was your day? I'm not good at small talk... Don't laugh at me, I'm trying my best here." 

Mikey could see a blush rise to his face as he continued to awkwardly make small talk. He got more curious as time went on. Who was the person on the other end? Why did Gerard look so flustered? He inched closer to hear what was happening.

"That's good to hear... Oh my god, I miss you too... I swear, after this tour is over, I'm gonna follow you around the country... Oh god, that sounded better in my head... Your band! I meant your band... Stop making fun of me, babe!"

Mikey couldn't believe his eyes. Was Gerard Way, his older brother who always seemed so sure of himself when he talked to people at parties and in interviews, bombing some simple small talk? And giggling? This was definitely a sight he'd rarely seen before. As Gerard laughed softly into the phone, he caught a glimpse of Mikey spying on him. Mikey thought of backing out and hiding, but he had already been caught.

"Sorry," he whispered. Gerard sighed and spoke into his phone again.

"Hey, babe," He murmured quietly. "I'm sorry, but I have to go... I'll call you later, I promise... I love you so much... Bye."

He hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket quickly. 

"You can get in big trouble for spying, you know?" 

"I'm sorry," Mikey apologized, quietly. "I couldn't resist-"

"It's not like I could've kept it from you for much longer anyway," Gerard sighed. "God, why can't I just keep one fucking secret from you? Is that too much to ask?"

"What's going on?" Mikey asked, his eyes widening in curiosity.

Gerard remained silent for a moment, as if he were debating with himself whether or not to actually talk.

"Mikey, I met someone." He ultimately spoke up, sheepishly. "I know this seems crazy, but the two of us met a few weeks ago and... things went forward from there. I think this is real."

"Good for you," Mikey grinned in anticipation. "Who is he?" 

Gerard paused before he spoke, as if he were apprehensive to speak. His eyes darted to the ground, then back up at Mikey.

"She," He corrected, with a blush.

"A woman?" Mikey exclaimed, in a hushed yet excited voice. "You're straight?"

"Shh!" Gerard put a finger over his own mouth as he frantically shushed his brother. "Don't say it too loud. But yeah, I'm... straight."

"I never would've guessed!" Mikey thought out loud. "I mean, I've thought you were gay since we were kids. Everyone did. Even mom and dad."

"I kinda figured that out when mom and dad had 'the talk' with me," Gerard recalled, with a laugh. "Or when we had health class and ms. Kelley just so happened to glance over at me every time the topic of sexuality came up."

"I think you told me about that when we were kids," Mikey ventured, thinking back to his days in school.

"Yeah," Gerard said, smiling softly. "Mikey, thank you for understanding all of this. I'm feeling better knowing that someone knows."

"I'm glad you told me," Mikey reasoned. "You know, it's okay if you're not gay." 

"Thanks," Gerard chuckled, at the sheer irony of the situation. "But please, promise me you're not gonna tell anyone about this. Especially not Frank."

"Of course," Mikey agreed. "But why can't Frank know? It's not like he'd think this is cheating."

"I need to keep the gay act going," Gerard explained. 

"It's hard to be in a convincing fake relationship with someone with no feelings at all between the two of you. It's tougher when it's a fake gay relationship where one party is actually straight. I'm a great actor, so I can pull it off. Frank is... actually better at acting than he gives himself credit for, he's just not that good. If I keep him believing that what he have is feasibly possible, then it makes it easier for him to act with me. It's like I'm giving him a motivation. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," Mikey shrugged, still very confused as to why Gerard was putting himself through all of this just to keep Fall Out Boy on their toes, but not wanting to keep the conversation going longer than necessary.

"Good enough for me." Gerard yawned. "I think I should get back to sleep now."

"Why?" Mikey asked. "We don't have a show tomorrow. You should take the opportunity to sleep in." 

"Yeah, but we're hosting that barbecue tomorrow," Gerard reminded, running a hand through his hair out of habit. "I've gotta make sure that reservation I made for that spot on the beach is still good, I gotta get food, I gotta get drinks, I gotta do that whole shebang. Plus, I invited Fall Out Boy, and there's probably gonna be fans crashing the party too. Lots of planning to do."

"Ok, if you insist," Mikey muttered, with a shrug.

"See you tomorrow, Mikes," Gerard smiled understandingly. "Or later today, I guess."

"See ya." Mikey began to walk away as Gerard slipped back into his room. But before he shut the door all the way, Gerard turned back and poked his head out of his room.

"Mikes!"

Mikey turned back and looked at his brother, keeping a straight face although he was actually nervous to hear what Gerard was going to say. 

"What are you doing up so early anyway?" Gerard asked, tilting his head. "You going somewhere at four AM?"

"Oh, um," Mikey stammered, trying to keep from being suspicious. "Getting coffee."

"You have a problem," Gerard scoffed, sarcastically. "Although, who am I to talk? I'm the one who introduced you in the first place."

He looked Mikey's outfit over once and grinned softly.

"I like the jacket."

And with that, he shut the door and left Mikey alone in the hallway. Mikey looked at the jacket he had pulled on in the dark: a brown hoodie with the words 'Love can't save you' printed on it. Pete's jacket. Mikey blushed a bit, but kept the jacket on as he left. He was going to meet Pete, why not give him back his jacket too?

Although, it was a really comfortable jacket...

***

Shortly after Mikey was gone, the sound of another door opening could be heard. Frank left his room, not even bothering to make sure it was quiet. He rushed over to Gerard's room and started to knock on the door.

"Gerard?" He called, hoping that Gerard was awake. "Gerard?"

Gerard sat up in his bed, tired and frustrated that he was being interrupted from his precious sleeping time. Normally, he would have ignored someone knocking that late, but it seemed like whatever was on Frank's mind was urgent. He pulled off his covers and opened up the door.

"Frank, what do you wa-"

Before he could say anything else, Frank had his arms wrapped around him tightly, almost knocking him backwards.

"Frank, what the hell? Are you ok? Are you crying?" 

"I had a terrible dream," Frank sobbed into Gerard's chest. 

"Oh! Um, I'm sorry..." He pulled Frank into his room quickly and shut the door behind them. "What happened?" 

Frank took a second to calm himself down a bit as he took a seat on Gerard's bed. Gerard sat next to him comfortingly.

"I'm sorry I got so worked up," He apologized, wiping some tears off of his face. "I just- I dreamed that you... you fell in love with someone else. You left me behind!"

"Wait, what?" Gerard exclaimed, completely confused with the situation at hand. Was this some kind of prank?

"I know, it's crazy," Frank said, taking a deep breath. "I know it's just a dream and I shouldn't be worried, but I just got so scared. I don't want to lose you."

"Um, Frank-"

But before he could finish talking, Frank was resting his head on Gerard's lap, looking up at him with wide, sad, brown eyes.

"Do you remember when we were kids?" He asked, a ghost of a smile growing on his face. He seemed to be feeling a lot better now that he was with Gerard. 

"Yeah..." Gerard responded nervously, trying to figure out where the conversation was headed.

"You were always my best friend," told Frank, looking up at Gerard as if he were the most beautiful thing in existence. "I would've done anything to keep it that way. The only thing I ever wanted was to be by your side. I didn't realize it then, because, well, I really don't love anyone, but-"

"Oh shit," Gerard thought. He could see exactly where the conversation was going, and he didn't like it. 

"Gerard, I love you." 

Gerard shut his eyes and clenched his jaw uncomfortably as Frank said these words. How could he have been so blind to not see Frank's blindness? How could he not have seen that Frank missed all of the signs and hints that the relationship wasn't real? Was he really so in love that he didn't hear any of what Gerard had told him after the night of the kiss?

If that were the case, then how could he tell Frank that the relationship was all fake? That he had legitimately zero romantic feelings for him? He couldn't. Not after what he had just said. He couldn't hurt someone who loved him like that. He couldn't find it in his heart to be so cold-blooded. All he could do was keep the act going until he found a way to end things on a good note.

"Gerard, are you okay?" Frank asked, sitting up and cupping Gerard's cheek gently in his hand. Gerard put on a brace face and looked at Frank as if he were melting simply by being touched. He leaned into Frank's touch, and brought one hand up to caress his hand as if all he wanted was that moment to go on forever. He put on his best 'totally enamored' face and looked directly into Frank's eyes.

"Frank, I love you too..." 

Frank's smile widened and he leaned in, planting a swift kiss on Gerard's mouth, which Gerard returned as if he were as into it as Frank was. Frank separated from the kiss after a few moments, catching his breath excitedly.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" He asked, his puppy eyes pooling with love. "I-I don't mean fucking, I just don't want to be alone right now." 

"Of course," Gerard agreed, his heart dropping into his stomach. He reclined back, so he was laying on his bed, on top of the covers. Frank did the same, cuddling close to Gerard, kissing him softly on the cheek before wrapping an arm around him and resting his head on his chest.

"Goodnight," he whispered, as he closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

Gerard couldn't do anything except stare up at the ceiling, his eyes wide with shock and regret. How could he be such a dirtbag? How could he lead on someone who loved him like that?

He found himself unable to fall asleep despite how tired he was feeling, entangled in the web of lies he'd woven and pained from the impact of his plan backfiring so badly. He knew in his heart that Frank didn't deserve it, but he also knew that he didn't deserve the pain of being rejected by someone who didn't love him back.

He felt like crying. He felt trapped under the crippling weight of unrequited love, although not the kind that people usually griped and whined about in songs. He wasn't someone pained by rejection. He was an actor, pained by not wanting to hurt someone by rejecting them. A dirty liar.

Why did nobody ever tell him that being on that side of the equation hurt so much?


	12. I Don’t Know How He Does It

"There you guys are! We're so glad you could make it!" 

Gerard put on an overly sweet smile and pulled Patrick in for a full body hug he didn't ask for. Patrick couldn't help but gasp softly and recoil in surprise.

"Please don't hug us," he frowned. "I don't think now's the time." 

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" Gerard let go immediately and looked at Patrick's face, tilting his head in an annoyingly adorable fashion. 

"Guys, how are ya?"

"Fine," Patrick grimaced, trying to make it seem like he was smiling. "We all are."

"C'mon, this is a party!" Gerard seemed to be almost jumping out of his own skin with happiness and energy. "Lighten up! Let's go have some fun!" 

He took Patrick by the hand, knowing that it would make him uncomfortable, and quickly led him over to the little spot where the others had gathered, Pete, Joe, and Andy following closely behind. Ray stood at the barbecue, Bob and Mikey sat in chairs next to each other, Bob with a book and Mikey with his phone, and Frank lay on a towel in the sun, showcasing his abundant collection of tattoos. 

Frank looked up as Gerard was leading the others back, and he got up immediately to greet the others as well. He wrapped an arm around Gerard and silently communicated to Patrick to let go of Gerard's hand. Patrick didn't need to be told twice; he let go and took a few steps away from Gerard, for good measure. For just a split second, it seemed like Gerard had accidentally broken character, his eyes silently communicating annoyance with Frank's affections. After that, however, it was back to his scarily realistic acting.

"Alright, guys, food seems like it's gonna be ready soon. Just, uh, take a seat, I guess." Gerard stammered, seeming a tiny bit shaken, for some reason. "Guys! Get to the picnic tables!" 

The others followed his order quickly, all congregating at the tables except for Ray, who continued to cook the food at the barbecue. My Chemical Romance sat on one side of the table, while Fall Out boy had opted for the other side.

"How cute!" Gerard commented, looking down the table. "We're so perfectly lined up! Singer in front of singer, guitarist with guitarist, drummer with drummer and bass player with bass player! We'll have to get Ray to sit in front of Joe when he comes back!"

Patrick rolled his eyes, which Gerard noticed, but didn't acknowledge. Ray returned to the table with food shortly after and sat next to Frank and in front of Joe, at the urging of Gerard. Frank tried to reel both him and Joe into a high-energy conversation about guitar techniques. Bob and Andy tried to make small talk despite both feeling the tension of the situation. Then there was Pete and Mikey. 

There they were: sitting across from each other, both with bags under their eyes from meeting at some dingy diner earlier that morning. Despite the awkwardness going on between the others, the two of them were completely content where they were. They both smiled at each other, trying to make it seem like they weren't already friends by talking about mundane things. Even so, the two of them ultimately ended up laughing at inside jokes passed back and forth. This caught the attention of the others.

"You two seem to be hitting it off," Patrick commented, glaring suspiciously in Pete's direction. 

"What?" Pete turned to Patrick, trying to compose himself quickly.

"You and Mikey are laughing like buddies," Gerard laughed happily. "Must be a bass player thing. It's cute!" 

"Thanks, I guess." Pete shot a genuinely friendly smile at Gerard, which caught everyone at the table by surprise, especially Gerard. Pete quickly turned back to Mikey, and the two of them continued to talk about boring, mundane things, hoping that they could refrain from being too suspicious.

"How are you holding up on your first big tour?" It was a conversation Pete and Mikey had had before, but it was definitely the safe way to go conversation-wise. Mikey caught onto what Pete was saying and went along with it.

"Great!" He lied. "Exciting!"

"I remember our first big tour," Pete recalled. "That was back maybe two years ago. We barely had an album out and then suddenly, bam! We were traveling the world and playing to sold out stadiums!"

"How'd that happen?" Now, the conversation was steering in a direction that Mikey was interested in hearing. Pete looked over at Mikey, who was leaning forwards, elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands. Just like he always did when he was listening. Pete couldn't help but smile, knowing that someone cared what he had to say.

"It all happened by chance, actually," Pete smiled, remembering that fateful day. "We were looking for places to play at. We went to this bar in Chicago called Lincoln Park Bar to see if they wanted us there, and originally, they told us no. Then, some guy working there ran up to us all flustered and practically begged us to play. That night."

"What? Why?" 

"The band that was originally gonna perform there canceled at the last minute." Pete shrugged. "I still don't know why. Anyway, they gave us time to get our equipment, and we did a kickass show right there. The people there liked us a lot. And guess what? Just our luck, there were high end scouts in the audience, looking for a new band to discover. That band turned out to be us."

"Oh my god!" Mikey gasped, with a soft smile. "How lucky!" 

"I know," Pete sighed. "We got real lucky that day. I'm so thankful we got that chance, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Mikey grinned. "I'm happy we got this opportunity to tour with you."

"Yeah, you guys are famous now."

Mikey hesitated a bit before speaking.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We're famous now."

There seemed to be a slight hitch in the conversation, as, for just a moment, the tow of them turned their attention to their food and didn't speak a word to each other. 

"Thanks so much for coming, guys," Gerard beamed, oozing happiness to the point of it being annoying. "We're so happy to have you here with us this time around!"

"Yeah, looks like it," Patrick sarcastically muttered under his breath to Joe, referring to the bored faces of the other people at the table. Joe laughed for a moment.

"What was that?" Frank asked.

"Nothing," Patrick responded, nonchalantly. Gerard frowned in response to the rude comment and brush off, though completely understanding of the situation. Suddenly, a loud ringtone could be heard. 

"Sorry, guys," Gerard plucked his phone from his pocket and pressed the answer button quickly. "I gotta take this." 

"Who is it?" Frank asked, looming over Gerard over-protectively.

"Nobody," Gerard lied. "I'll be right back." 

And with that, he was off, talking to someone that was completely anonymous to everyone at the table except Mikey. Frank wanted to follow Gerard and hear who he was talking to, but instead remained where he was, knowing that Gerard would be angry if he interrupted. Frank was definitely clingy and annoying, but he knew his limits.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think this beach is beautiful," Mikey commented, looking around at the nice scenery. "I think I'm gonna take a walk."

"Okay, Mikes," Frank said. "Go ahead."

Mikey got up from the table and, as the others were distracted, tapped Pete on the shoulder subtly. Pete looked over at Mikey, who mouthed 'come with me' quickly before walking away.

"I kinda wanna take a walk too," Pete added, standing up and following Mikey. He caught up to Mikey and as soon as they were out of the eye line of the others, they collectively breathed a sigh of relief. The two of them were now free to be themselves and talk to each other as they normally would. 

An uneasy yet familiar feeling rose up inside of Mikey as he listened to Pete talk to him. He felt warm and fuzzy, almost like the feeling someone gets when they have a crush on someone, but also confused and uncomfortable. He'd only ever felt something like that for girls. He caught himself thinking back to his daydream... the one he'd had the night he and Pete danced in the diner together. How could he possibly think about Pete like that?

"You okay?" Pete looked over at Mikey, bringing him back to reality. Mikey looked back at Pete, taking a moment to take in his amazing beauty in the light of the slowly setting sun, and began to consider the fact that, maybe, just maybe, what he was feeling for Pete was okay.

"I'm better than okay."

The two of them stared deeply into each others' eyes for a moment, each wanting to take in the precious moments while at the same time not wanting to make things awkward. Mikey was the first to bashfully look away, leaving Pete to do the same. After a moment or two, however, he looked back up. He could practically hear the romantic violin solo playing in the background as his eyes were graced by the form of Pete's beautiful face in the light of the setting sun. He'd only ever really seen his face under the artificial light of stages and dingy diners and the natural morning light that would casually appear when they walked back to their hotels after their meetings. The light of the setting sun was somehow similar, but at the same time, completely different; Pete's skin looked like it had a completely different, somehow even more attractive than normal, kind of glow to it. His lips were open a bit as he smiled at Mikey, showcasing his perfect teeth. 

"I could do it..." Mikey thought to himself, fighting to tear his gaze away from Pete's storybook lips. "I just have to lean in a few inches and-" 

"Oh, fucking hell!" 

Pete had turned away from Mikey and back to the reserved spot on the beach, where the others were. It seemed that a fight had broken between the remaining members; first verbal, then gradually physical.

"Fucking idiots!" He got up from where he was sitting quickly. "I can't believe they're gonna force me to be the responsible one right now!"

"Pete, wait!" Mikey stood up too and rested a hand on Pete's shoulder to stop him from going away. "I don't think we should get involved in this."

"Why not?" Pete tilted his head curiously as he asked. Mikey responded by pointing in the direction of the fight, which Pete looked over to.

"See the people jumping the fences and crowding around the fight?" Mikey asked, to which Pete nodded affirmatively. "They're all here looking for something to talk about. They're probably all taking pictures. Isn't it better we don't get directly involved?" 

"What do you mean 'directly?'" Pete inquired, raising an eyebrow. "That makes it sound like you have a plan. What's going on in that head of yours?" 

"It's the Fourth of July, isn't it?" Mikey grinned devilishly. "Let's give 'em a fuckin' show." 

***

"Dude, what do you guys need so many fireworks for anyway?" 

"Gerard told me it was more cost-efficient to buy these in bulk," Mikey replied matter-of-factly, tightening his grip on a large crate of fireworks and hoisting it up. "But I think he just wanted to show off to you guys."

"Aww, all of this just for little old us?" Pete jokingly gushed at the situation as he grabbed another crate of fireworks and carried them, following Mikey quickly. The two set up the crates far enough away from the reserved spot to not be seen, but close enough for a rough and terrifying impact.

"Gimme a lighter!" Mikey murmured excitedly, in a whisper. Pete handed him a lighter and Mikey quickly lit both fuses with it. 

"What now?" 

"Run and hide!" 

Pete followed Mikey's urgent advice immediately, taking off in a sprint in the other direction, Mikey closely in tow. The two of them hid behind a car in the parking area, both of them peeking over the roof and giggling like schoolchildren in sex ed class.

"Let's count it down," Mikey suggested. "I'll go first: Ten!" 

"Nine!" Pete partook in the counting down without question.

"Eight!"

"Sev- Shit! They're going off early!" 

The first firework had gone off before schedule and burst in the air with a loud 'BANG.' A collective scream could be heard from everyone at the party as they heard the loud noise. They realized what had happened only when the second firework went off into the still-light sky and all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but Gerard, Ray, Bob, and Frank were all obviously upset that the fireworks had gone off earlier than expected.

The rest of the fireworks burst in the sky, one after the other, for another couple of minutes. Mikey and Pete smiled up at the glorious scene they'd created. 

"Well done, kid." Pete wrapped an arm around Mikey and pulled him close for a second, eyes crinkling with happiness as he did. Mikey laughed hysterically as he pulled away, but then looked back at Pete with wide eyes. That was the first time Pete had ever hugged him, even if just in a friendly manner. He relished in the moment he'd just had with Pete as he looked up to watch the fireworks.

Pete looked over at Mikey, who was looking up at the light show in the dusky sky. The younger boy watched the pretty scene with wide-eyed wonder, his profile perfectly silhouetted by the slowly setting sun, the attractive line of his throat especially prominent since he was looking up. Pete beamed brightly, his nose and his eyes crinkling up with genuine happiness. The scene was perfect; adrenaline was high, the two of them had just done something they shouldn't have done, and Pete didn't know how long his confidence would last. Mikey turned his attention away from the fireworks to Pete, and for the second time that day, they were only inches away from each other. 

"All you have to do is lean a few inches forward," Pete thought to himself.

But he didn't.

Mikey had beaten him to it.


	13. One, Two, Three

"What the fuck was that noise?" 

Everyone on the beach shot up and looked to the sky, briefly screaming in fear. To the relief of most on the beach, they saw fireworks bursting in the sky. As for the few that weren't so relieved, they were the ones who had brought them in the first place.

"Are those our fireworks?" Gerard looked up into the sky and watched as the fireworks he'd purchased went off into the still-sunlit sky, completely wasting their potential. "Fuck! They're early!"

"Gerard!" Ray called, prying Patrick off of Frank. "I could use some help here!"

Though Ray did his best, Patrick wouldn't budge from his spot, beating Frank practically to a pulp angrily.

"Get off me, you fucking moron!" Frank yelled, grabbing a small knife from his belt loop and jamming it into Patrick's thigh while he wasn't expecting it. 

"Fuck!" Patrick screamed, falling back into the sand, Frank's knife sliding out of his flesh. Blood spurted from the wound in his thigh onto the light sand of the beach.

"Patrick!" Joe yelled, going over to help the bloodied Patrick to his feet. "Are you alright? Holy fuck, that's a lot of blood!"

"It's fine." Patrick wiped blood from his face with his sleeve, staining his gray sleeve with the red liquid. "It's not mine."

"No, from your leg!" Andy shouted, unable to take his eyes off of the red dripping down the outer side of Patrick's leg. Patrick looked down at his own wound and seemed to pale in fear at the sight.

"Oh my god..." 

"We have to get you to a hospital!" Joe shouted, along with Andy. He and Joe supported Patrick and tried to lead him back to the bus. 

Patrick, now going a little lightheaded from the shock as well as the blood loss, turned to Frank, who, despite having just taken a beating, was standing upright, ready to fight more. Suddenly, all Patrick saw was red; it was either from all of the blood dripping from his face or the anger he felt building up inside him, or both. He was willing to bet on the last option.

"Fucking asshole!" He screamed, lunging to grab the knife and attack Frank, but Andy held him back. "You fucking stabbed me!"

"Patrick! Stop!" Joe held him back as best he could, and after a second or two, Andy joined him in holding Patrick back.

"Stop!" Ray shouted authoritatively, holding Frank back from pouncing on Patrick again. "We're adults here! Fucking act like it!"

"Fuck you!" Frank spat at Ray, trying to free himself from Ray's grip. "It's not like he didn't have it coming!" 

"Andy, get Patrick back to the bus and call 911." Joe instructed. Andy did as he was told, and Joe stayed back.

"What happened?" Joe asked. "What fucking happened here? I thought things were going fine!"

"You happened!" Frank seethed. "He got too fucking close!"

"What?" Joe shouted, as if daring Frank to repeat what he'd just said.

"To Gerard, moron!" Frank barked, leaving everyone in silence, especially Gerard. "I saw how close Patrick got to him! I saw him holding his hand right when you guys came here! He needs to stay the fuck away from him!"

Joe didn't say anything; instead he shot a puzzled look over at Frank.

"He's mine!" Frank asserted. "Gerard... he's mine!"

"Frank, you're drunk!" Gerard put a hand on Frank's shoulder and immediately, Frank was totally distracted from his anger. All of his attention was turned to Gerard. 

"You're not thinking straight!"

"Babe, I couldn't help it." He spoke gently and stared into Gerard's eyes with every ounce of love he had in him. "You... you're my everything. I-"

"Let's get you back to your room. You need to sleep this off." Gerard ended the conversation right there and began to lead Frank back to the bus. "Guys, I'll be right back. I'm gonna deal with Frank, then I'm gonna find out where Mikey is. Haven't seen him all day."

"Hey, we're really sorry," Ray sighed, running a hand through his curls nervously. "We really didn't mean for things to turn out like thi-" 

"We've heard enough!" Joe brushed off Ray's apology with apathetic anger and began to walk away. "My friend got fucking stabbed! Party's over. I need to find Pete."

"Why don't you go check over by the fireworks?" Bob suggested. "He's probably trying to make it seem like he's innocent before he comes back here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe snapped his gaze to Bob angrily.

"Bob, shut the fuck up-" 

"Fuck off, Ray," Bob huffed, with an eye roll. "Your and I both know Pete set off our fireworks." 

"Bullshit!" Joe interjected.

"Oh, is it?" Bob snarked. "Is it so farfetched to guess that someone who hates us would do something like that out of spite?"

"Bob, shut up!" Ray tried desperately to get Bob to shut his mouth and not ruin things, but Bob's anger seemed to outweigh his loyalty to Gerard.

"Oh yeah?" Joe raised an eyebrow. "Where's your bass player? I haven't seen him all day either."

"Probably in the bus," Ray suggested, trying to remain calm and diffuse the tension. "He's pretty anxious. He probably wanted to be alone."

"Sure!" Joe snarked, sarcastically, before walking away.

"Let's go check by the fireworks!"  
Bob shouted. "Let's see who's in the wrong here!" 

"Eat shit, Bob." Joe kept moving away from the scene, holding his head high. 

"Way to fucking go, Bob." Ray's words were biting and sarcastic. "You just ruined everything!"

"I didn't ruin shit!" Bob argued. "That glorified garden gnome brutalized Frank! He deserved it."

"Frank started it, to be fair," Ray muttered, angrily flicking a lock of hair from his face. "It was just a matter of time before that happened to him."

"Whose side are you on?" Bob yelled. 

"There shouldn't be sides here, you fucking idiot!" Ray interjected. "Don't you understand? I joined this band because I love music and I respected the other guys! I didn't sign up to play war with a band we should be celebrating with!"

"Celebrating?" Bob's eyes widened and his mouth fell open at the suggestion. "With them? Ray, what happened to you?"

"What happened to you?" Ray snapped back, without hesitation. "All of you! Why do we all have to dedicate our lives to this years-old feud? We're famous now, for fuck's sake! We got what we wanted! Can't we just bury the hatchet and get back to where we were when we started?"

"Wow," Bob sighed. "I didn't peg you for a traitor, Ray." 

"Oh, so I'm a traitor?" Ray huffed, rolling his eyes. "For what? For wanting to simplify our lives and get back to focusing on the music? Is that being a traitor now?"

Bob said nothing.

"If the feud means more to you than the music, then maybe you don't belong here. Make up your mind."

And with that, he turned away and made his way back to the bus, leaving Bob out in the cold night by himself. Bob shot a cold gaze over at Ray and flipped him off angrily before making his way to the direction of the fireworks. 

***

No more judgement. No more thinking. No more missed opportunities.

One, two, three.

A million thoughts ran through Mikey's mind, but all of them disappeared once he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against Pete's. For just a moment, Mikey was wrapped in a feeling of complete romantic ecstasy. For the first time in his life, he'd done something without thinking it through all the way; he felt like a lovestruck teenager from a romance novel, as cheesy and dumb as that sounded.

Before long, however, he separated from the kiss and looked up to see Pete looking back at him with a completely dumbfounded expression. Mikey looked away from him, red with embarrassment and regret from what he had just done. At that point, he was feeling less like a lovestruck teen and more like a bug that had just smashed against a car window.

"You idiot," He berated himself, in his head. "You fucking idiot, you just messed everything up."

Pete brushed over his own lips softly with his fingertips, a blush rising to his face as he figured everything out in his head.

"Mikey, did you just-"

"I'm sorry," Mikey looked up at Pete for a split second before averting his gaze once again. "I just thought... I don't know. I'm sorry. That was stupid. I should go." 

He got up and turned away, not wanting Pete to see the pain in his face. Choking back a sob, he pushed his glasses up higher onto the bridge of his nose and dashed away quickly.

"Mikey! Wait!" Pete tried to stop Mikey, but soon realized that his efforts would be fruitless. All he could do was sit back, looking up at the night sky, and ponder what had just happened to him.

He tried to figure out what exactly had happened, and why. Why had Mikey kissed him? What made him decide to go for it? How long had he been wanting to do it? Did he mean it in an innocent manner, or was he gunning for something more?

He wasn't about to lie to himself: he considered kissing Mikey back, but something had stopped him. Perhaps it was fear or anxiety. He didn't know. As all these thoughts ran through his head, his heart beat fast in his chest, still not quite over the surprise kiss he'd received. He began to wonder if it would make things irreparably weird between the two of them, or if maybe, they could get past it.

All he knew was that he needed to talk to Mikey. Maybe then, things could get better.

"I fucking knew it!"

Pete's attention was snatched from that of his anxious thoughts to the voice that had just yelled at him. He looked up and saw that it was a familiar blond with a black lip ring: Bob.

"Shit," he muttered, standing up and facing Bob. "Look, I know what it looks like-"

"It looks like you set off our fireworks!" 

"Yeah, that's what I was suggesting." Pete sighed. "I can explain-"

"Alright, then. Explain."

Pete paused for a moment and thought of an answer to give to Bob but nothing came to his mind. He was preoccupied with thoughts of Mikey.

"You know what? I don't have an excuse. I set off your damn fireworks, okay? Now get awa-"

Without letting Pete finish, Bob pushed him roughly to the ground. Pete gasped in shock as he collided with the hard ground, having not expected Bob to get violent with him.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Pete's eyes filled with rage as he stood up and looked at Bob's enraged face. "It's just fireworks! We'll pay you back!" 

"This isn't just about the fireworks." Bob grabbed Pete by the shirt collar and pulled him close. "This is for everything else."

"What?" Pete snapped, his mentality still angry, yet his body language fearful. He struggled to get out of Bob's grip, but it turned out to be futile. "Let me go, fucker!" 

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about." Bob held a penetrating and intense gaze as he threatened Pete.

"Let me go!" Pete shouted, as if he had the upper hand.

"Or what?" Bob growled, tightening his grip on Pete. Pete gulped nervously and closed his eyes, hoping that maybe if he ignored his immediate problems, they would just go away. He silently prayed that someone would come to his rescue.

But nobody did.


	14. Impure

Gerard dragged Frank into his room and tossed him onto his bed roughly, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh yeah," Frank moaned, propping himself up on his elbows and smiling. "I like where this is going!"

"Shut up!" Gerard snapped, averting his eyes from Frank. "Shut the fuck up, Frank!"

"Alright, message received. I won't say a word." Frank stood up and sauntered confidently over to Gerard, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in close. 

"Frank, get off me!" Gerard shoved Frank away from him and back onto the bed. "Now's not the time! You fucked up! You fucked up big time!"

"What?" Frank sat up, smirking. "Look at me! It's not like people are gonna think it's my fault."

"You're a little bloody; Patrick has a fucking stab wound in his leg!" Gerard berated, firmly. "Who do you think people are gonna side with?"

"I could plead self defense." Frank leaned back comfortably and crossed one leg over the other, his left ankle resting on his right knee. "C'mon, babe! Loosen up!"

"You're drunk." Gerard sighed annoyedly and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Just sleep it off. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"I'm not drunk at all," Frank shrugged, nonchalantly.

"What?"

"I'm not drunk. I didn't drink anything tonight." 

"Prove it."

"Hm..." Frank leaned back and tried to think up ways he could prove himself to Gerard. "Let's see, how can I prove I'm not dr-- Oh, I got it!"

Frank sat up, crossing his legs and straightening his back confidently.

"A-B-C-D-"

"The alphabet?" Gerard scoffed. "That doesn't prove anyth-"

"Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T-S-R-Q-P-O-N-M-L-K-J-I-H-G-F-E-D-C-B-A."

Gerard was silenced for a moment, in awe of what he had just witnessed.

"Okay, that was impressive," he admitted. "Is that something you've practiced?"

"Maybe," Frank smirked. "But if I were sloshed, would I be able to do that?"

"I guess not." Gerard shrugged and sighed. "But if you're not drunk, why'd you attack Patrick like you did?"

"I told you," Frank frowned. "Because I thought he was getting too close to you." 

"Wha-"

"Before you say anything, I overreacted," Frank admitted, slumping his shoulders insecurely. "I'll admit that. I just... I lost my cool when I thought he was trying to steal you."

"I'm pretty sure he's straight," Gerard chuckled. "Besides, even if he was gay, I think I'm the last person he'd go for."

"Still." Frank reached out and took Gerard's hand gently. "I don't want to take any chances. I don't ever wanna lose you."

Gerard looked down at his hand, which was now gripped gently in Frank's. As much as it pained him to admit, it felt really good to be so deeply loved. He just wished his feelings were mutual.

"I'm gonna fix you up," he said softly, letting go of Frank's hand and heading to the bathroom of the grandiose suite. He grabbed a gray washcloth from the cabinet and dampened it under the faucet. He felt himself shiver a little as the cold water hit his hands, but he continued to dampen it. He then brought it back over to Frank, taking a seat on the bed right in front of him, his back facing the headboard and his legs crossed under him.

"I'm sorry if this hurts," Gerard cautioned, before putting the washcloth up to Frank's face. Frank nodded understandingly and prepared for pain. Gerard was sure to be careful as he wiped the blood off of Frank's face, but even so, Frank reacted adversely, wincing in pain at the simplest touch despite trying his hardest to do the opposite. 

"I'm sorry," Gerard apologized, concern in his voice. "Here. Hold my hand."

Frank took Gerard up on his offer, grasping his hand gently in his own. Despite being in pain, Frank made a point not to squeeze Gerard's hand, treating him as if he were made of glass. 

"There." Gerard smiled, lifting the washcloth from over Frank's eye and admiring his handiwork. "You look better now."

"What's the damage?" Frank asked, as if it were routine to ask his friend how badly his face had been beaten in during a fight.

"Your eyes are puffy," Gerard commented, telling Frank exactly what he wanted to know. "You're probably gonna have two black eyes tomorrow."

"Damn," Frank chuckled under his breath. "That little guy packed a fuckin' punch!"

"Be careful who you call a little guy," Gerard laughed.

"Shut up, Gerard!" Frank laughed as well, playfully slugging Gerard on the shoulder. As Gerard's laughter died down, Frank took a moment to take in the beauty in front of him; not just Gerard's physical beauty (though that was definitely a plus), but also the inner beauty he'd always had. In Frank's eyes, Gerard might as well have been wearing a halo.

"Gee," Frank blurted, as Gerard turned to set the washcloth on the table next to him. Gerard's gaze snapped back to Frank attentively as he heard Frank speak. 

"Thank you." Frank blushed; this was a look Gerard hadn't seen much from the usually crass Frank.

"For helping you?" Gerard chuckled. "Don't mention it."

"No," Frank murmured. "Thank you for being there for me. All this time. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around, let alone love."

"What are you talking about?" Gerard smiled. "You're my best friend for a reason, you know? I like being with you."

"Other people don't." Frank cast his gaze downwards, then back up at Gerard. "People in my life don't tend to stick around for longer than they need to."

"What about the other guys?" Gerard asked, trying to cheer Frank up a little. "We love you!"

"I met Ray and Bob after we started the band." Frank explained. "I've only known them for about five years now. I've known Mikey for as long as I've known you, but he never really took a shine to me. Then there's you." 

He seemed to brighten up a little.

"You've been by my side since we were kids and look at you now: still here. Everyone else has come and gone. You're the only constant I can count on. Thank you."

Frank lifted his hand to brush some hair out of Gerard's face gently. As he felt Frank's calloused yet gentle fingertips brush across his face, Gerard felt chills from all across his skin. Frank shifted in his spot, turning to face Gerard full on. He leaned in and kissed Gerard's mouth passionately. Gerard went along with the act, not holding back for fear that Frank would see right through him. Frank's lips trailed along Gerard's jawline and stopped at his neck. Gerard shivered as he felt Frank's teeth brush across his skin. 

"Frank," he breathed shakily. 

"Shh." Frank smiled, separating from Gerard and looking at him with a sly, sexy grin. "No more talking."

He gave Gerard a playful shove so he was lying on his back and swung one leg over him so he was straddling him. Gerard gasped softly as the scene played out, half with shock and half because he'd just been pushed down. He looked up at Frank's lovestruck face, and suddenly, his stomach felt like it was twisting into an uncomfortable knot. 

He loved Frank. He really did. Through everything the two of them had been through, he'd always loved him. Only, he didn't love Frank like Frank wanted him to. He loved him like one best friend loved another. Nothing more. Yet, there he was, looking up at the face of his best friend and knowing that he expected so much more of him.

He wanted to give Frank the love he deserved. He wanted to be the one that he could love as a lover forever. He wanted to be able to tell Frank he loved him and actually mean it in the way that he wanted. He wished he could be 'the one.'

But sometimes, in life, things simply don't work out like they should.

"Is everything okay?" Frank seemed to slow down a bit as he saw Gerard's worried face.

"Fine," Gerard lied, sighing away his outwardly negative mood.

"Are you scared?"

"Scared?"

"Don't be." Frank leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Gerard's mouth. "I promise it's not gonna hurt. I'm not gonna let that happen. I'll be gentle."

Suddenly, Gerard snapped back from his thoughts and his act to reality. He was suddenly very aware of the situation he was in; Frank's intentions weren't so innocent this time around.

"Frank," Gerard squirmed, trying to pull himself away from Frank but accidentally colliding with the headboard of the bed. "I- I don't think-"

"C'mon, Gee," Frank smirked, his fingers running along the bottom hem of Gerard's shirt. "I mean, I won't make you if you're not into it, but if you're just nervous, I promise I won't let you get hurt."

"Frank, I can't," Gerard affirmed, placing a hand on Frank's chest and pushing him away slightly. "I'm sorry, but I-I can't."

"Gerard, are you okay?" Frank asked, genuine concern in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

Gerard remained silent for a moment, his eyes pooling over with sadness. He looked up at Frank, trying to figure out what to say. He wanted to tell him everything; he wanted to spill his guts and stop the 'relationship' right there. He didn't care about what the revelation would do to him or how it would affect the feud, all he wanted was to stop leading on his best friend before things got any worse. 

On the other hand, Gerard cared too deeply about Frank to break his heart. He took a breath and prepared to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a choked sob.

"Oh my god!" Frank immediately gave Gerard his space as he continued to cry. "Babe? Babe, what's wrong?"

Now that Gerard was free, he sat up and tried to compose himself, but he found that his tears kept coming and he kept choking up sobs. 

"Hey, d-don't be sad!" Frank wrapped Gerard into a tight and supportive hug as he tried to choke back emotions of his own. "Please, just tell me what's happening!"

"Frank, I can't tell you," Gerard softly wept, his voice breaking with sadness. "I-I just can't... We can't talk about it right now."

"O-Okay," Frank agreed, though he was confused. "You don't have to tell me anything. Um, d-do you want some water, or-"

"I-I think I could use some space right now," Gerard admitted, bluntly. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I need to be alone for a little bit."

"That's okay," Frank complied. "If it's space you want, then you got it. I won't bother you until you're ready to talk."

He kissed Gerard's forehead gently before he got up from the bed and left. He didn't care that he was being kicked out of his own room; if it meant giving Gerard exactly what he needed, he was willing to sleep in another room for the night. Gerard watched him leave, teary eyed and conflicted about what he was going to do. As soon as Frank closed the door, Gerard took the opportunity to try and calm himself down and formulate a new plan of action; it was what he considered his best ability, after all.

After a few deep breaths and a little bit of thought, Gerard was feeling somewhat better, but that didn't mean his problems were solved. As a matter of fact, his problems were nowhere near over with and he knew it. The problems he faced right then were not ones that could be easily thought through and danced around like most problems in his life; he'd hit a mental roadblock, and the only solutions to his problems were either too impossible or too painful to carry out.

Suddenly, however, he thought of an answer he hadn't before; the thought practically made him sick to his stomach, but he knew that, if everything went according to plan, all of the problems he faced would fall right into place.

He needed to put the feud to an end.


	15. The Olive Branch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: violence

"Stop! Come back!"

Pete shouted as loud as he could as he convulsed on the floor, trails of blood dripping from his mouth as well as from the gashes in his sides. The sound of the footsteps of a coward running away from his crime rang through Pete's ears as he watched his aggressor flee the scene.

"Someone," Pete wheezed, trying to remain conscious and catch his breath. "Someone... help me..." 

His hands shook with both fear and weakness as he clutched the gash in his side, trying his hardest to cling to his last bit of consciousness. 

His eyes were glassy as he looked away from his wound and up to the night sky. He found himself distracted by the moon, the few stars he could see, and a few planes his mind mistook for shooting stars in his pained daze. He looked up at the stars in the sky, and suddenly, things seemed to fade away and not be so painful.

As he looked up at the night sky and lost himself to the thought of the infinite, death suddenly didn't seem like such a bad option. His eyelids grew heavier with every passing second, and before long, he had just let them close.

"Pete? PETE!"

Pete forced his eyes open and looked over at the voice calling to him. He saw Mikey running over to him and dropping to his knees by his side and looking over the horrifying scene.

"No, no, no, no!" Mikey stammered, his voice weakening. He looked at the damage that had been done to Pete and paled.

"Pete, I-I'm gonna go get help! Ill be back, I promise!" 

He got up and sprinted away, and Pete found himself alone again. This time, however, was different; Pete didn't feel so romantic about death anymore. He pictured Mikey's face, and suddenly, he saw a reason to hold on and fight through the pain. Pete couldn't help but smile to himself as he slipped away from consciousness and uttered a few final words:

"Thank you, Mikey."

***

"How's he doing?" Joe asked, taking a pause from pacing back and forth to talk to his bandmate.

"Physically or emotionally?" Andy sighed, his eyes heavy from tiredness.

"Still pissed, huh?" Joe took the opportunity to take a seat in a plastic chair away from the receptionist's desk. 

"Super pissed," Andy corrected. "I've never seen him like this before. I don't know how- oh fuck." 

Joe turned his attention to where Andy was looking and saw a sight that was as unwelcome as it was surprising: Gerard, Mikey, Ray, and Frank all walked through the doors of the waiting room. As soon as the four-piece group noticed Joe and Andy, they seemed as uncomfortable as one would expect.

"The fuck are you guys doing here?" Joe was about to rush over to his rival band, but Andy grabbed his shoulder and held him back subtly.

"We came to see if you guys are alright." Gerard sighed, his eyes darting to the ground with shame. "We didn't mean for the night to turn out like it did. We're really sorry about Patrick and Pete-"

"Can it," Andy spoke, calmly yet bluntly. "We've heard 'I'm sorry' before. I think it's best you keep your distance."

"Please, just hear us out," Ray pleaded, desperation in his voice. "We didn't mean for anything like this to happen. All we want to do is apologize. You don't have to accept it, but please, just let us speak-"

"No!" Joe snapped. "We gave you a chance to apologize and two of our guys got stabbed! One of them almost fucking died! You're not fucking allowed to say you're sorry to us!"

"We didn't do anything to Pete," Frank defended. "We promise, we didn't!"

"Bullshit," Joe scoffed. "Your drummer and your bassist were both away when Pete got stabbed. Do you really expect me to believe that it wasn't one of them?"

"Mikey is the reason Pete's still alive," Frank observed. "You can't blame him."

"What about your drummer?" Andy cocked an eyebrow.

Frank, Mikey, Ray and Gerard collectively paused guiltily.

"We have no idea where he is," Ray sighed, shamefully. "We don't know if he did this to Pete or not."

"Wow, two of you guys tried to murder us in one night." Joe rolled his eyes. "That's convincing."

"Bob's not one of us!" Gerard interjected. "Not anymore, anyway. We sent him an email and told him not to come back."

"He abandoned us," Frank blurted, sadness in his voice. "He hasn't shown his face around here since the Fourth of July. He didn't even give us a note or a text or anything. He's obviously running from something, and if it isn't because he stabbed Pete, it's for something else. We can't risk keeping him around, whether or not he did it."

"Nice morals," Joe snarled, sarcastically. "You cut off the killer but keep the loose cannon on your team? Get out of our faces."

"I'm not a loose cannon!" Frank defended. "Patrick was attacking me! I had to defend myself!"

"You attacked first!" Andy interjected.

"Yeah," Frank shamefully averted his eyes from the conflict. "I know what I did wasn't right. I wasn't thinking straight. I thought some things were going on that weren't. I'm not gonna pretend that I was in the right, but I'm just gonna say my piece and ask for your forgiveness." 

"No!" Joe shouted. "Fuck y—"

"Stop it! All of you! I can hear you all the way from my room." 

Patrick limped out of the hall and into the waiting room with the others, a crutch under one arm, and turned to Ray, Frank, Gerard, and Mikey. 

"Patrick," Frank addressed. "You're up! I'm so sorry for last night! Are you oka-"

"Tell me what happened to Pete or leave." 

The subdued anger in Patrick's voice was the kind that could send chills down the spines of people who didn't scare easily. It was enough to silence the room for a moment or two.

"Patrick-"

"Shut the fuck up, Andy!" Judging by the mix of sadness and anger in his voice, it seemed like Patrick was rapidly coming unraveled. "I need to know why my best friend is in a hospital bed. Tell me exactly what happened right now or get the fuck out of here!"

Gerard continued to avert his eyes from the conflict, guilt seeping from his expression and body language. Ray and Frank did the same.

"We know we're the last people you want to see right now," Mikey spoke up, bravely yet nervously. "But we came to apologize for what happened. Things spiraled out of control and we're taking the blame-"

"WHAT HAPPENED TO PETE?" Patrick shouted, rage dripping from his voice. "Spit it out!" 

"He got stabbed," Joe interrupted, barely able to stomach the harsh reality. "More than once. He was left for dead at the beach, but his doctors say he's gonna live."

Patrick's expression went from one of rage to one of complete despair in less than a heartbeat. He choked up a single sob and found himself dizzy with sadness. 

"Patrick, man, he's gonna be ok," Andy tried to comfort, though he was pretty sure it wouldn't work. "Pete's gonna live."

"I-I can't believe I almost lost him again," Patrick breathed heavily, burying his face in his hands.

"Did he say 'again?'" Mikey whispered to Gerard, concern and surprise in his voice. "Do you know-"

Gerard responded with a quick shake of his head before turning his focus back to Patrick, Joe, and Andy.

"The important thing is that he's alive," Andy comforted Patrick as he cried. "Actually, he wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Mikey here. Mikey was the one who found him and got help."

Patrick looked up at Gerard, Mikey, Ray, and Frank, and suddenly fell scarily silent as he observed them.

"Which one of you is Mikey?" 

"I am," Mikey spoke up sheepishly and blushed.

Patrick stood up and walked over to Mikey, his face hard and stony. Mikey gulped not knowing what was going to happen to him. He closed his eyes and prepared for the worst, but instead of something bad happening, he felt Patrick's arms wrap around him tightly. Mikey gasped quietly, and the others in the room stood in shocked silence.

"Thank you," Patrick whimpered, his voice weakening. "Thank you for- For saving him."

"Oh!" Mikey wasn't the type to turn down a genuine hug, but this time had caught him completely off guard. "I-I didn't really do anything. I just got him help. That's it."

"You saved my best friend," Patrick cried softly as the last few seconds of the hug lingered. "You're a hero."

He let go of Mikey and looked him in the face, his mouth smiling and his eyes streaming with tears. Joe and Andy looked at each other, both looking for an answer and neither of them getting one. Gerard, Ray, and Frank whispered amongst themselves as they watched the unexpected scene unfold.

"How is he?" Mikey asked, concern in his voice. "Is he okay?" 

"I haven't talked to him yet. This is the first time I've been out of my room since I got here." Patrick steadied himself on his crutch and turned back to the hospital rooms. "Mikey, come with me. He should talk to you too."

"Wait, really?" Mikey smiled, knowing that he'd be able to talk to Pete again sooner than he'd thought.

"Yeah," Patrick smiled over at Mikey and held back a second to let Mikey catch up to him. "Joe, what room is Pete in again?"

"206," Joe replied, still trying to figure out exactly what he'd just witnessed.

"Thanks," Patrick grinned, before turning and limping towards Pete's room, Mikey right next to him.

The only ones left in the waiting room were Gerard, Ray, Frank, Joe, and Andy. The five of them stood across from each other, none of them able to process what they'd just seen. None of them had ever thought a member of Fall Out Boy and a member of My Chemical Romance could get along, let alone share an emotional hug.

"You guys saw that too, right?" Frank asked. The other four nodded in response. For just a moment, it seemed that they had silently called a truce with each other.

"Um, what are you guys gonna do about your drummer?" Joe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Gerard replied, brushing some hair out of his face. "One of our roadies is a really good drummer. I'm sure we can talk him into filling in."

"Are you talking about Matt?" Frank inquired, with a grin. 

"Yeah, who else?" Gerard scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes at Frank, with a smile. Frank leaned in and pecked Gerard on the cheek innocently, making Gerard's stomach drop, remembering his eventful night with his best friend.

"Are you okay?" Andy asked, catching Gerard in his one moment of visible discomfort.

"Yeah," Gerard brushed off his discomfort and delicately beamed with friendliness; this time, genuine friendliness. This time, he was ready to set things straight once and for all.

"Are you guys willing to hear us out now?" He asked, with an innocent head tilt.

"Depends on what you have to say." Joe cocked an eyebrow assuredly and folded his arms across his chest defensively.

"We know you won't accept our apology right now and to be perfectly honest, we don't see why you would," Gerard admitted, solemnly. "But we don't want to spend the rest of this tour bickering with you."

"What are you saying?" Andy asked, cautiously yet full of curiosity.

"I feel like you and us should talk things over," Gerard proposed. "For real this time. When Pete and Patrick are healed and up for it, we'd love to sit down with you guys and hash things out if we need to. No more bullshit. This is my olive branch."

"What?" Frank looked up at Gerard, eyebrows shooting up in shock.

"We never talked about this," Ray added, nervously confronting Gerard.

"This was my idea." Gerard took control of the situation quickly and turned it back to Joe and Andy. "I'm done with all the bitterness. I want to prove it to you so that maybe we can get past this. What do you guys say?"

"Wow," Andy exclaimed. "This is sudden-"

"No." Joe frowned and furrowed his brow at Gerard angrily.

"No?" Gerard paled in surprise at Joe's answer. "But why not?" 

"We don't fucking trust you," Joe spat. "Two of our guys had to be hospitalized last night because of you. It's not easy to come back from this."

Gerard opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. For the first time in his life, he didn't have a single clue of what he was going to do next. 

The olive branch that he had just offered up had immediately been tossed into the fire.


	16. Keep Your Enemies Close

"You should go first," Patrick suggested, nudging Mikey's arm gently. 

"I thought you were going first," Mikey prodded. 

"Don't you think it'd be better for you to go in first?" Patrick asked, rhetorically. "You saved him."

"I barely know him, though." Mikey took a quick mental note: that was officially the biggest lie he'd ever told.

"You two seemed to hit it off at the table yesterday," Patrick suggested. "It's not like he's gonna have anything mean to say to you. Just go."

"Oh, um," Mikey stammered. "I guess if it's no trouble for you-"

"It's all good." Patrick clasped his hands together and smiled politely at Mikey. "I-I probably need a little bit to mentally prepare anyway."

Mikey knocked gently at the door of Pete's room before pushing the door open slowly.

"Pete? Hey, Pete, are you awake?"

Pete pulled the covers off of his face slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the light of the morning. He'd been awake for hours, but he hadn't found the strength to face the fact that another day was ahead of him. Had he heard any other voice talking to him, he probably would have stayed under the covers and pretended to be asleep for just a little bit longer; Mikey's voice, however, was one Pete would always instinctively respond to and he knew it.

"Hey." Mikey pushed the door shut until he heard the loud click of metal melding with the doorframe. Pete blinked a few times, making his secret best friend come fully into focus. There he stood, in all his jaunty outfit-wearing glory. Pete couldn't help but feel his spirits being lifted as soon as he laid eyes on him.

"Mikeyway," He responded, cracking a genuine smile despite being pained by the wounds in his sides. The corners of his eyes crinkled softly with happiness.

"You feeling any better?" Mikey moved from his spot by the door to a plastic chair that rested by Pete's bed. Pete smiled at his friend, happy they could be alone to talk during the day for a change.

"Am now." He chuckled gently, propping himself up on his elbows slowly and wincing in pain as his wounds got to him. "Mikey, thank y-"

"What happened?" Mikey asked, knowing he was paddling into deeper waters quickly, but willing to take the risk if it meant getting the answers he wanted. He wasn't in the mood to be thanked for being a hero when he didn't feel like one. 

"I shouldn't drag you into it." Pete spoke as if what had happened to him was a dirty secret. "This was my fault."

"Bullshit." Mikey felt a hit of boldness hit him right in that moment, which surprised him almost as much as he had surprised Pete. "Tell me what happened."

"Got fucking stabbed." Pete's shoulders hunched forward vulnerably, despite his attempt at maintaining a tough composure. "What more do you need to fucking know?"

"Names, details," Mikey demanded. "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't matter," Pete muttered. "It's over now. I'm gonna live."

"That's not enough." Mikey snapped, anger beginning to course through him. "People can't just do something like this to people and just fucking get away with it. It just- it doesn't work like that!"

"Mikey, calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Shh!" Pete put a finger to his own mouth as he shushed Mikey. "Keep your voice down! Someone might hear us!"

"Speak up, then." Mikey's voice broke with sadness as he uttered these words. "Tell me everything."

"Why are you being so weird about this?" Pete rolled his eyes annoyedly.

"Because I fucking care about you, okay?"

Silence. Tension. The sounds of shaky, shallow breaths. Pete exhaled softly and looked back at Mikey, boldly making eye contact.

"Is that why you kissed me?" 

"Stop," Mikey huffed sadly, with a blush. "I didn't mean to."

"I don't believe you," Pete asserted, pointing a finger at Mikey. "What's going on in your head?"

"Nothing." Mikey averted his gaze from Pete completely, feeling a lump start to form in his throat. "I didn't mean anything by it. When I said I cared, I-I didn't mean like that."

"Why'd you kiss me, then?"

"Pete-"

"Tell me!" Pete demanded. "And don't you dare fucking lie to me!"

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by a single subdued, choking sob. Mikey tried to choke back the next one, but found that it was inevitable. This wasn't like any kind of sadness he'd felt before. What he was feeling couldn't be covered up by a poker face; something altogether different was inside of him and it demanded to be reacted to.

"Oh no, no, fuck!" Pete's voice weakened as soon as he heard Mikey start crying. He realized that he'd pushed too hard and that he'd royally messed up. "Mikey, please don't be sad, I-"

"I-I'm sorry..." Mikey whimpered, wiping tears from his face as if he were annoyed with having feelings. "I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen... I-I didn't mean to- to make you uncomfortable... I-I'm confused... I'm lost... I... don't even know who I am anymore."

It took every ounce of pain tolerance in Pete's body to lean forward, but he did anyway. For the first time since the two of them had met, Pete had wrapped his arms around Mikey in a genuine hug. Mikey hesitated hugging back for a moment, but soon found his arms wrapped gently around Pete as he continued to cry, this time into Pete's shoulder. Pete felt tears run down his face as he held Mikey tightly in his arms for the first time. He'd never liked hugs, but this one was different.

"Let me tell you something." Pete took a deep breath and steadied his voice as he spoke. "I didn't really know much about people when I was in school; all I knew for sure was myself, and it was kind of a lifeline for me to cling onto when nothing else made sense. I lost that lifeline when I got a little older and I started to feel... lost... too. When you start to question yourself, things get a little messy. I know."

Pete paused and listened to Mikey cry for a moment. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to admit.

"Remember that girl I told you about? Mandy? I have a confession to make: that poem... It wasn't totally about her. I mean, I liked her a lot, but as I got to know her, I realized I had eyes for someone else too. A male someone."

Mikey tore himself away from the embrace to look Pete in the face as he spoke.

"For all I know, he could've been into me too," Pete spilled, becoming more vulnerable by the second. "I was never man enough to bring it up. Part of that was because I was denying so hard that I could ever like another guy. I freaked myself out. When I realized things weren't as straightforward as I thought, it sucked."

He brushed some tears off of Mikey's face gently and mustered up a friendly smile to comfort him. 

"But eventually, things began to feel better. I wouldn't have thought of it when I was a kid, but it's true."

Mikey sniffled and laughed softly as he heard Pete speak to him.

"Thank you," He muttered softly, his voice still slightly weak.

"Mikey, you saved me," Pete reminded, brushing some hair out of Mikey's face gently, not able to help himself. "Thank you."

Mikey smiled lovingly as he felt Pete's fingertips delicately brush across the side of his face. In that moment, all he wanted was for Pete to wrap him up in another real embrace, or to lean in and kiss him; something to show him that what he was feeling wasn't unwarranted.

Instead, he got nothing. He realized that he must have misread the situation.

"Thanks for the talk." Mikey stood up and took a deep breath, stabilizing his voice before he left. "I think Patrick wants to talk to you now, though. See you?"

"Oh," Pete responded, disappointedly. "Um, see you, then.

"Okay." 

Mikey opened up the door and shut it behind him quickly, not wanting Pete to see that he was still somewhat sad. Pete looked up at the frame of the door and sighed sadly. He felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest as he reclined back in his bed and made a chilling realization: maybe there was more to what he felt for Mikey.

"Why do I only want what I can't have?" He thought, as he pulled the covers over his face and shrouded himself in darkness shamefully.

***

Meanwhile, Mikey made his way down the hall and got his nerves under control as he faced the other band members.

"Hey, there you are," Gerard murmured, wrapping an arm around Mikey. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine." Mikey put on a brave face and smiled up at his brother as if everything was alright.

"Hey, at least nothing bad happened." Gerard shot a subtle glance over at Joe and Andy before corralling Mikey away. "C'mon, everyone. We should get ready for the show."

"Don't waste your time," Joe called, folding his arms over his chest. "We're canceling tonight."

Frank frowned and turned back to Joe and Andy.

"Right." He spoke flatly. "What was I thinking? Of course you're backing out."

"What's that supposed to imply?" Andy stepped forward to speak.

"Whatever you think it does." Frank rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Frank!" Gerard scolded, worried that what little hope he had left was about to topple over. "Now's not the time!"

"Well it's not like we can find a Pete Wentz stand in on such short notice!" Joe snapped. "So if any of you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it."

There was a brief moment of silence, but if the others could hear Gerard's thoughts, they would've heard a loud dinging sound. He had realized that hope for the future of the two bands was still a possibility.

"Mikey can do it!" He shouted, excitedly.

"What?" Andy asked, surprisedly.

"Yeah, what?" Mikey looked up at his brother, both fear and slight anger on his face. He couldn't figure out Gerard's end game and that worried him.

"He's an amazing bassist!" Gerard wrapped an arm tightly around Mikey, bragging and showing him off as if he were trying to sell him that instant. "He's got lightning fast fingers and he can perfect a song in an hour! I've never seen anyone do it like he does it!"

The way Mikey was feeling, Gerard might as well have been tying a price tag to his wrist.

"You're kidding," Joe scoffed, with a laugh. "You really think we'd let one of you stand in for Pete? Forget it."

"Just one night!" Gerard was now at the point where he wasn't trying to sell Mikey so much as he was begging the others to buy him. "It'll be so disappointing to cancel! Think about your fans!"

"He'd have to learn our entire set list in a couple hours," Andy sighed, reluctantly. "It's just not possible."

"Of course it is!" Gerard charmed. "He listens to you guys all the time! He's probably already learned all the songs on your set list anyway!"

"No I ha-"

"Stop being so shy, you know you love their songs!" Gerard wrapped his arm tighter around Mikey and looked over at him, silently warning him to play along. Mikey nodded and remained silent, not wanting to ruin things.

"I just don't know-"

"C'mon!" Gerard pleaded. "Just let him go up there one time!"

"Pete and Patrick would be pretty pissed if they found out we cancelled a show without consulting them." Andy looked over at Joe as he spoke, and Joe looked back at him, appalled that he'd say something like that in front of Gerard. Andy backed off immediately, exhaling regretfully.

"You won't regret it!" Gerard concluded. "I promise."

Joe huffed, knowing that what Andy had said to him was right. If Pete found out they'd turned down an offer to save a show, he'd never hear the end of it. He looked over at Andy, who seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing. Joe rolled his eyes, disgusted by what he was about to say.

"Okay." 

"Seriously? You'll do it?" Gerard was beside himself with happiness.

"We'll run it by the other two." Joe reasoned, flatly. "If they're not into it, we're canceling the show. If they are, your bassist had better be ready."

"He'll blow the damn place up!" Gerard hooted, enthusiastically. "We'd better go get ready then! See you at the show!" 

"Maybe!" Joe called, but Gerard wasn't listening anymore. He had corralled Mikey out of the building and towards their tour bus before Joe could finish his one word. Joe and Andy looked at each other wordlessly, both wondering if they'd irreparably messed up or if, maybe, things would just work out.

***

"What the hell was that?" Mikey shouted at his brother. "Why would you say that? I've only heard, like, two of their songs in my life! How am I supposed to play an entire set of their songs with them?" 

"You learned how to play the bass in a week," Gerard reasoned, placing a pair of headphones on Mikey's head and handing him an iPod. "It's not like you can't learn a few of their songs in a few hours. I bought both of their albums and I had Frank grab a set list for you. You just have to cram."

"I didn't learn the bass in a week, I brushed up in a week!" Mikey shouted, pushing the headphones off of his ears so they rested around his neck. "I learned bass for years, Dumbass! You're totally underestimating just how hard this is gonna be!" 

"Look," Gerard took a moment to reason with Mikey. "I didn't want to say it in front of Joe and Andy, but Pete's not that good at the bass. You, on the other hand, are. If you mess up, it's no big deal. It'd be rude to get up on that stage and outshine him anyway, so maybe dumbing it down and making a few mistakes would be good."

"You're crazy!" Mikey shouted. "Why are we even helping them out?"

"Because maybe it's time for all of this to stop." Gerard picked up Mikey's bass and plugged it into a nearby speaker. "I'm starting to realize that this feud has gotten to my head. I've made some pretty shitty decisions lately that are starting to come back and bite me in the ass."

"You and I both," Mikey thought, but didn't dare say out loud.

"All I'm asking is that you try." Gerard strummed at the strings of the bass once, checking to see if the volume was on. "The guys seem like they're on the path to forgiving us, but right now, they're not budging. Maybe this is an opportunity to show them we're ready to give this all up. You're our representative."

He held the bass up to Mikey, waiting for him to take it.

"Please, just do this for me."

Mikey eyed the bass quietly, then looked up at his brother's desperate face. He sighed and took the bass.

"I'll do my best." He promised, throwing the strap around his shoulder and positioning his hands on the neck and the strings diligently. "I might just be able to do this."

"That's the spirit!" Gerard smiled brightly before leaving the room. "I'll leave you alone to practice!" 

Now alone, Mikey plucked at the strings of his bass, slowly but surely figuring out the one Fall Out Boy song he was sure he knew, only because he'd heard it on the radio so many times: Dance, Dance.

"It's just one night," He reminded himself, easing into the iconic bass line with dexterity. "How bad could this be?"


	17. Pain Of The Past

"Wait, I feel like I'm missing something." Patrick furrowed his brow. "What happened again?"

"Gerard said Mikey could fill in for Pete tonight," Joe explained, disappointedly.

"He seemed pretty adamant about it," Andy added, with a shrug.

"Mikey Way wants to fill in for Pete?" Patrick asked, trying to make the murky scene as clear as possible.

"Don't worry," Joe scoffed rudely. "We told them we'd consider it so they'd leave us alone, but we made it pretty clear we didn't want them there."

"The hell did you do that for?" Patrick asked.

"Wait, what?" Joe's eyes widened as Patrick spoke to him.

"Maybe it's not such a bad idea," Patrick pondered. "Pete would hate for us to cancel a show. I don't know much about Mikey, but I do know he's pretty good at bass. He might be good."

"He plays for My Chem," Andy reminded.

"Yeah," Patrick sighed. "But he also saved Pete. Maybe he's not as cold as the others."

"They're playing some kind of game with us," Joe snapped. "Gerard was saying something about an 'olive branch.' Remember the last time he asked us for peace? You got stabbed! Pete got stabbed! At this rate, one of us is gonna get murdered! Do you really want to risk it?"

"Mikey saved Pete." Patrick repeated, with a huff. "If he were that despicable, he would've just left him there!"

"You can't ignore the past because of one thing," Andy argued. "I mean, it was a really noble thing he did, but you have to keep the facts in mind."

"You're right," Patrick said, composing himself. "Alright, pros and cons. Guys, help me out." 

"Are you serious?" Andy raised an eyebrow. 

"As a heart attack." Patrick furrowed his brow seriously. "C'mon now, pros and cons of Mikey filling in tonight!" 

"He's just a kid," Andy started.

"What does that matter?" Patrick asked.

"He's from My Chem," Joe added, brushing over Patrick's question nonchalantly. He and Andy went back and forth, suggesting possible cons for a moment or two.

"He's Gerard Way's brother."

"He doesn't know our songs." 

"He probably hates us."

"Well damn," Patrick murmured, with an eye roll. "I guess we've got our cons. Alright: pros! I'll start: he's a good bass player. Another pro: he's available."

Joe and Andy were silent.

"Okay," Patrick continued, awkwardly. "I'll do another one: he owes it to Pete. Remember the bass incident?"

"Oh yeah!" Andy recalled.

"We never got them back for that, you know." Joe folded his arms over his chest. 

"If Mikey saves the show tonight, we might not have to." Patrick grinned, proud of himself. "Maybe this could be a turning point for us."

"That's exactly what Gerard said," Joe observed. "And we all know how how trustworthy he is."

"Are we having Mikey on or not?" Andy asked, flatly. "If we are, we need to tell them soon."

Patrick stopped to weigh the pros and cons in his mind once more, but found the decision impossible. 

"I have no idea," he admitted, humbly. "Maybe Pete has some idea though. We should ask him."

"Is that appropriate?" Andy asked, carefully. "It seems so rude to ask about replacing him."

"Especially when his option is someone from My Chem," Joe added.

"He and Mikey seemed to get along well enough at the barbecue," Patrick shrugged. "Plus, the last thing he'd ever wanna do is cancel a show. I don't think he'd be too offended at the suggestion."

"Are you sure?" Andy asked. "He's in a pretty bad place right now. He might not like the suggestion."

"It's worth a shot," Patrick pushed. "We're asking him, not telling him. If he doesn't like it, it's not happening. Simple as that."

Joe and Andy looked at each other, silently communicating their nerves in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

"I could do it," Patrick suggested, with a subtle, annoyed eye roll. "If you guys don't want to be involved, I could just go alone."

"No," Joe defended. "We're with you." 

"Cool." Patrick brushed him off before heading over to Pete's room and knocking on the door.

"Pete?"

On the other side of the door, Pete hid under his blankets, enveloped in a shallow, dreamless, and unsatisfying sleep. He was awakened as he heard the knocking on the door. He groaned annoyedly and wrapped his blankets a little tighter around him, trying to ignore the knocking. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, whoever it was would leave him alone.

"Pete, it's us," Patrick called. "We have to talk to you. It's important."

Pete considered staying silent and pretending to be asleep, but he knew his friends too well to try that. He knew that if what they wanted to talk to him about was really that important, they would just wake him up.

"Come in," he called, tossing his blankets off of himself and painfully sitting upright. Patrick, Joe, and Andy filed through the door, one after the other, as if they were nervous to talk to him.

"What's going on?" 

"It's about tonight's show," Patrick explained, shutting the door behind himself before turning back to Pete.

"You haven't cancelled yet, right?" Pete perked up nervously. "We can't cancel. We've never cancelled. I can go out there if I need to."

"No you can't." Joe responded, flatly. "You're gonna have to stay here for a long time. Don't try and convince yourself you can."

"Joe's right." Patrick spoke before Pete could argue. "But no, we haven't cancelled yet. That's actually what we came to talk to you about."

"What?" Pete asked, curiously. "What are you talking about? We don't have a replacement bass player lined up. You couldn't possibly have found one in the last thirty minutes. Right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Pete's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what the guys were implying.

"We might've," Andy clarified carefully.  "It's up to you." 

"Who's the replacement?" Pete asked, his brow furrowing with worry and curiosity. 

"Mikey Way." Patrick spoke without hesitation, as if he were ripping off a bandage. Pete fell silent as he heard the fateful answer.

"Gerard talked us into it," Andy clarified. "It'd just be for tonight. What do you say?"

Pete took a moment to mull over the idea in his head. He'd seen Mikey play onstage many times; he was well aware of how good the boy was at his job and how good he would be be if he were to perform with Patrick, Andy, and Joe. He was well aware that he'd be perfectly fitted to replace him for one night. What he wasn't so sure about was the kind of secrets that could possibly be spilled if Patrick, Joe, and Andy started asking him questions backstage. Especially after the weak, vulnerable place he'd just seen the boy in. He wondered just how much stress Mikey could take before he was snapped like a branch.

Then again, he'd known Mikey for months and he knew how good he'd been at keeping his composure for all that time. He began to have faith that his friend would just make things work.

"Bring him in." 

Patrick smiled brightly while the others breathed a sigh of relief after waiting so long for an answer.

"Great!" Patrick beamed. "I'll get ahold of them through their manager or something and we'll let them know the show's back on."

"Don't bother," Pete shrugged, grabbing his phone from the side table. "I've got Mikey's number, I'll just text him."

"What?" Andy looked over at Pete confusedly. Pete looked up at the others fearfully, realizing the fatal mistake he'd just made.

"You have his number?" Joe questioned, suspiciously. "Since when?"

"Since we talked at the barbecue," Pete lied smoothly. "He wanted to send me some article or something, so I gave him my number."

"Okay," Patrick reasoned with the unreasonable lie quickly, knowing he'd definitely heard Pete say weirder things than that. "That's good for us. Pete, you tell him the news, we'll get things ready. Thanks for making the decision." 

"Anytime, guys!" Pete was just happy that they'd believed his ludicrous lie so quickly. "Break a leg tonight! Have someone film some of it for me." 

"Will do." Joe was the first to walk out. "Feel better."

Patrick, Joe, and Andy made their way out of the room and shut the door behind them gently, leaving Pete alone in his room to breathe the biggest sigh of relief of his life. He couldn't help but feel like the rest of his band was suspicious of his thin lie, but all he could do right then was be thankful that none of them had questioned him.

"Fucking hell," he thought to himself, grabbing his phone and typing a quick text message to Mikey. "That was close."

***

Mikey plucked at the strings of his bass diligently, confident that he'd finally learned the whole bass line to Sugar, We're Goin Down.

"Alright," he breathed, pulling the cap off of a black sharpie with his teeth and grabbing Fall Out Boy's setlist to look over again. "I've got Sugar! Not bad time either!" 

He put a thin black check mark by the song title and then looked back at the set list with a stressed sigh.

"Sugar makes five. That makes seven more to learn."

He was immediately taken back to his days in school when he'd cram for a test the night before. That was definitely something he didn't miss about being back home. He exhaled briefly, reminding himself that he had plenty of time left (even though that wasn't necessarily true) and doing his best to encourage himself that everything was going to work out. As the next song on the album started up, Mikey heard his phone ding. He picked it up and saw that he'd gotten a text from Pete. Not bothering to stop the song he was listening to, he picked up and read the text.

It simply read: "You're on for tonight. Good luck."

Mikey replied simply: "Alright. I'll tell the others."

He stopped for a moment, listening to the song that was playing. He felt a smile creep onto his face as he listened to the lyrics. He imagined Pete writing them at a booth in a crappy diner at four AM by himself, taking time to pour his heart onto the page like he'd always talked about doing. It was a sad thought wrapped in a warm, fuzzy one.

"Drink down that gin and kerosene  
And come spit on bridges with me just to keep us warm  
Then light a match to leave me be  
Light a match to leav-"

"Mikes!"

Mikey practically jumped out of his skin in startled fear as Frank tossed the door open and called his name loudly. 

"Jesus Christ, Frank!" He exclaimed, pulling his headphones off and tossing them to the side, leftover startled fear making his heart pump wildly. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," Frank apologized halfheartedly, as if he had something else on his mind. "I came to check up on you. Brought you some food."

He lifted up a plastic container of some plain yogurt with granola and blueberries and offered it to Mikey. Mikey's brow furrowed with confusion as he set down his bass and examined the snack container more carefully.

"You got me yogurt?" Mikey graciously took the container, slightly surprised that Frank had done something like that for him completely out of the blue. "Why?"

"Thought you could use it," Frank shrugged. "You haven't eaten much today and you're working so hard. You must be hungry."

"What'd you do to it?" Mikey asked, shooting an accusatory gaze at Frank.

"Jesus! Nothing!" Frank exclaimed, innocently. "What makes you think I'd do something to it?"

"Don't think I forgot about the last time you randomly brought me food," Mikey recited, as if the memory was extremely clear to him. "Remember that sleepover you had with Gerard about ten years ago? Remember when you brought me that special bowl of cereal? The one that had that fake finger in it?"

"That was pretty funny," Frank chuckled to himself before looking back at Mikey's unconvinced face and losing his nerve. "Wait, no. You're right. That was shitty of me. I promise you, the yogurt is fine."

"Yeah, right." Mikey rolled his eyes annoyedly. "Like I'm gonna believe that."

"For fuck's sake! Here!" Frank took the plastic spoon he'd brought for Mikey and scooped a bite of the yogurt into his own mouth.

"See?" He asked, chewing the granola and swallowing the bite. "It's fine. Check it if you want. I didn't do anything to it."

He handed the container to Mikey roughly and turned to leave. Mikey could tell by his slumped shoulders, short but unusually melancholic temperament, and his tone of voice that something else entirely was going on.

"Frank, wait!" Mikey set down the yogurt and chased Frank, stopping him before he could leave the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so mean."

"It's okay," Frank sighed, sadly. "I know you're going through a lot right now. I should've expected it."

"Is that why you're really here?" Mikey pried, noticing that something was odd about Frank."

"No," Frank admitted. 

"Talk to me, then." Mikey was trying to be nice and make up for the aggression he'd shown before.

"It's about Gerard." Frank spoke timidly, as if he were scared of the possible answers he could possibly get from Mikey. "Has he... has he had boyfriends before me?"

"Oh," Mikey thought to himself, struggling to not roll his eyes right then and there. "It's one of these. Just play along, it's only an act."

"I dunno." He spoke up, with honesty. "I don't think he has, though."

"Okay," Frank reasoned, changing up his strategy. "Do you know if he's ever been... hurt before?"

"Hurt? Like heartbroken?"

"No." Frank breathed out nervously, intertwining his own hands together on his lap. "Like, really hurt. Physically hurt. Like, the kind of hurt that would make him scared of... being with me."

Mikey fell silent, first with confusion as he tried to fit the pieces together and then with shock as the picture finally came together in his head. 

"Oh!" He felt his stomach drop as he realized exactly what kind of question Frank was indirectly asking. "I, um.. I don't... I don't think so. No. Nothing's ever happened to him like tha-- I mean, I hope it hasn't."

"Okay," Frank sighed. "So it's not likely?"

Mikey nodded nervously, not sure how exactly to respond to a question like that being asked. 

"That's good." Frank made his way to the exit door of the room. "I've kept you long enough, you should get back to your thing."

"Wait, why are you asking me this?" Mikey called, as Frank was leaving. 

"It's nothing, Mikey." 

Frank left immediately after brushing Mikey off, leaving him alone once again. Mikey picked up his yogurt, wiped the plastic spoon off with his shirt and stirred all of it together. He didn't eat any of it, half because his nerves made his stomach too queasy to stomach much and half because he was checking for another fake finger.

Without much of a warning, the boy felt something click in his brain; everything had just fallen into place and he was able to see the truth for the first time: what Frank felt for Gerard was no act.


	18. Second Guessing

Mikey could feel everything around him as if he were actually there, and not just reminiscing about his past. He could feel the crisp night air and the heat rising to his skin vividly as he shuffled quietly through his room. The soft, scraping sound of an old, ratty suitcase on the cheap wood floor of his bedroom were sounds he'd always remember clearly. That night, he knew things were going to take a turn for the unknown.

"C'mon," Gerard urged his younger brother, prying open the window as quietly as possible and setting a second packed suitcase out onto the lawn. "You've got everything you need: toothbrush, toothpaste, clothes, you're ready. Let's go!"

"Gerard, I don't know." Mikey stopped in his tracks, gazing back at the door of his room. He knew his mother was sound asleep just a few rooms over. He knew that, mere hours later, she would wake up and open up the door to her son's room, only to find a goodbye note. The thought made his stomach drop and his feet plant firmly on the ground. He was suddenly having second thoughts about leaving.

"Mikey, we don't have much time." Gerard slipped out of the window and waited for Mikey right outside the little house. "Train leaves in thirty minutes and we've got a show in Detroit at 7 tomorrow. We can't miss this!"

"What about mom?" Mikey pondered, his nerve suddenly disappearing. "What's she gonna think when she finds out I'm gone?"

"You're gonna be with me," Gerard suggested. "We left her a note telling her everything's gonna be good. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not gonna graduate high school," Mikey thought out loud, his eyebrows turning up sadly. "I was so close..."

"Mikey, you're the one who wanted to come with us," Gerard reminded, in a soft yet firm tone.

"It's different now that it's really happening," Mikey sighed, gazing out into the cold, dark neighborhood.

"You're just getting cold feet." Gerard leaned against the windowsill and tried to give Mikey a little pep talk. "It's hard right now, but think about how you'll feel when we get our big break. Think about how someday, we'll be rich and famous; how people are going to talk about us in those garbage-ass celebrity gossip shows you love."

"I don't even watch those sho-"

"Don't pretend you don't love them," Gerard chuckled quietly. "That's not important, though. We need to get going right now if we're gonna do this."

"Everything I know is here." Mikey's shoulders hunched timidly as he took one more look around his room. "I don't know anything else. I'm... scared."

"With an attitude like that, you'll never make it out of here," Gerard sighed. "Mikes, I know it's scary. I know you don't think you'll be able to make it on your own. I know you're worried about what's gonna happen if this band doesn't take off. You don't have to be, though! I've got faith in my idea."

"Oh yeah? What's your idea if things don't work out like you planned?" Mikey asked. "What if we lose it all?"

"We'll be there for each other," Gerard affirmed, with a smile. "You, me, Ray, Frank, and Bob. We'll be like a little family. We'll go out there and do all those cool things you've always wanted to do: we'll travel through the country together and see the sights, we'll blast music the whole way there, and I don't want to put any ideas in your head, but Frank told me he knows places where you and the others could get tattooed. It's gonna be great!"

He sighed, calming himself before continuing to speak.

"If things don't work out, we'll still have each other to rely on. We'll pool all our money together, we'll hitchhike, we'll do gigs at people's house parties, we'll even sleep on other people's floors if we have to, but believe me, we'll find a way to build it all back up again."

"I don't know-"

"Mikey, it's time to go." Gerard grabbed his suitcase and hoisted it up. "This is what we've always dreamed of. I don't want you to stay cooped up for the rest of your life wondering where you went wrong. Answer me this, Mikes, if you don't leave right now, will you ever make it out of this town?"

"Gerard, I don't think I can just leave." Mikey argued. Gerard sighed and stopped in his hurried tracks to reason with his brother.

"Tell you what," he reasoned. "Just come with us for now. We've got a few gigs and I have a feeling all your worries are gonna disappear when you're on those stages. If things don't work out, I promise I'll do whatever it takes to get you home safely, but for now, we need to go."

Mikey took a moment to take in the reality of what was about to happen to him. He gazed out of his window and into the night, imagining himself out there. He imagined being on the train and going further and further away from his home with each passing second. He understood, however, that this was the only way he'd ever get his dream. My Chemical Romance had just lost a bass player, and he had finally convinced his brother that he'd be a good replacement. It was right then, or never.

He sighed, holding back every emotion he was feeling, and looked up courageously at the world he was about to venture into.

"I'm coming."

* * *

"Mikey?"

Mikey jolted awake from his spot in the red chair by the wall, realizing that he'd fallen asleep before he had learned the last song on the setlist in its entirety. By the way Gerard was tugging at his sleeve, Mikey could tell that he wouldn't have time to learn it. He'd have to wing it onstage.

"Fuck!" He shouted, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion even as he rushed to prepare for going up onstage. At least he'd be doing his own band's music first.

"Don't worry," Gerard comforted. "We've still got some time left. You're fine. How'd everything go? Are you ready?"

"More or less," Mikey huffed, both with aggravation and fear.

"That's better than nothing," Gerard chirped, trying to override his own fear with false optimism. To anyone but Mikey, it would've seemed like he was actually quite cheerful about the incoming event.

"Collect your stuff and meet us out there in a few. We want to give you a little pep talk before we go on."

Gerard left the room and suddenly, Mikey found himself horrified at what he was about to do. He wondered how he could possibly have ever felt different about going onstage with Fall Out Boy. He was never excited by the idea, but he was never as scared as he was right then.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers shaking as he dropped to his knees and raided the mini fridge, searching for something to calm his nerves. Before he knew it, he had pried the cap off of three beers and downed all of them. He worried that something bad would happen to him, being that he was drinking on an empty stomach, but he didn't really care anymore.

"C'mon! We're on soon!"

"I'm ready!" Mikey shouted, tossing away his garbage and collecting the equipment he needed before hurrying out of the room. He was immediately met by Ray and Frank.

"Mikey!" Ray greeted, joyously. "How are ya?"

"Fine," Mikey played along, silently praying that nobody would notice what he'd done. As he started to feel himself get dizzy, he knew that things weren't going to be so easy to hide.

"Sorry I'm late." Matt Pelissier walked up to the rest of them, giving Gerard, Frank, and Ray something else to notice other than Mikey's crippling fear.

"Welcome to the band, Matt." Gerard chuckled and clapped Matt on the shoulder bracingly. "Where were you, anyway? We're on in just a few minutes."

"Sorry," Matt apologized nervously. "There's fans out there that look like they're trying to claw their way backstage. I've never seen anything like it. This one crazy lady was trying to convince me she was related to one of you."

"Which one of us?" Ray asked.

"Didn't say," Matt admitted. "All she could say before security shooed her away was that she was related to 'someone in the band.' She could've been talking about Fall Out Boy, for all I know."

"Alright, well, you're here now and that's all that matters." Gerard smiled warmly and made sure everyone else was ready to go onstage. Meanwhile, Joe, Andy, and Patrick watched them from their green room quietly.

"Look at them," Joe muttered to Patrick and Andy bitterly. "They're not gonna last the night."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked, with an eye roll. "They're fine."

"Look at Mikey," Joe instructed. "Something's totally not right about him. He looks terrified."

"He's got a right to be," Patrick jabbed. "He's taking a lot on tonight. It's gotta be stressful."

"It's not just that," Andy noticed. "He's looking a little unsteady."

"Again, that would be the fear," Patrick sighed. "C'mon, guys, let him be. He's trying to help us."

"What if he doesn't?" Andy prodded, suspiciously. "What if he completely fucks this up?"

"Or," Joe added. "What if he's only here to sabotage us?"

"Shut up, Joe." Patrick brushed him off with a tsk.

"He's right, though," Andy sighed. "We should've been more careful. We shouldn't have agreed to this."

"You too, Andy?" Patrick scoffed, appalled. "Jesus, what would Pete think of you guys right now?"

"What's gotten into you, Patrick?" Joe snapped. "Why does it seem like you're on their side more than ours?"

"I'm not picking sides here," Patrick growled. "I'm as nervous as you guys are about Mikey. There, I said it. All I'm trying to say is that, maybe, it doesn't have to be bad between us anymore. Maybe this is a sign that we can finally work things out."

"That's a nice thought," Andy commented. "And I wish I could tell you I believed it was true, but you can't just believe something like that."

"What are you guys suggesting?" Patrick snapped. "That we cancel our show right now? It's a little fucking late for that, dont you think?"

"We're not saying that," Joe narrowed his eyes at Patrick. "All I'm saying is that we made a horrible decision this time and it might blow up in our face."

"We have the upper hand right now, remember?" Patrick turned his gaze away from Joe and Andy and over to My Chemical Romance. Mikey specifically. "It's not like they want to get on our bad side."

"Patrick-"

"I'm gonna go talk to them. Yeah, I'll talk to them. Maybe then you'll understand that what's going on isn't so bad." Patrick tried to break away from his group and go talk with the other one, but he felt a hand clutch at his arm and hold him back firmly.

"Stop," Joe exhaled, firmly. "Patrick, tell us what this is really all about."

"What?" Patrick barked.

"Joe, not now," Andy cautioned, realizing exactly what Joe was about to bring up.

"Let me talk." Joe tightened his grip on Patrick's arm as soon as he felt the singer begin to pry away from him. "Patrick, is this because of what happened to Pete?"

"Joe--"

"Andy, be quiet!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Patrick fought to get away from Joe's grip.

"Mikey hit it off pretty quickly with Pete," Joe observed. "If I remember correctly, it took some more time for you two to warm up to each other--"

"What the fuck do you think this is? High school?" Patrick tore his arm away from Joe's grip roughly. "Do you seriously think I'm jealous? I'm an adult! So is Pete!"

He sighed softly, composing himself before he spoke again.

"Look, I'm gonna go talk to them. Things are gonna be fine."

He strode away from Joe and Andy quickly, as if he were trying to avoid a conversation he wanted no part of. Joe tried calling Patrick, but he wasn't listening anymore.

"What's your problem?" Andy shoved Joe's shoulder, with slight aggression. "Why would you scare me like that? I thought you were gonna bring up--"

"Who says I wasn't going to?" Joe furrowed his brow emotionally. "I was trying to lead him up to it, but he's not gonna listen to me."

"Joe, it hasn't even been a year," Andy warned, furrowing his own brow in response. "He's still healing. We can't talk about it now."

"He needs to get it out of him soon." Joe brushed some hair out of his face as he spoke. "It's eating away at him. He's not thinking straight anymore."

"We'll find time when it comes around." Andy reasoned, though he wasn't happy about it. 

The two of them were silent after that. They'd said enough to each other; they didn't want to push it any closer to the edge.


	19. Hot Whiskey Eyes

"Great job, Mikes!" 

Gerard clapped Mikey on the shoulder, catching Mikey off guard and making him stumble a bit.

"Sorry!" Gerard apologized, grabbing Mikey's arm and making sure he was stable. "I didn't mean to knock you over."

"It's fine," Mikey said, flatly.

"Mikey! You're gonna kick ass up there!" Ray announced as if it were a cold hard fact, passing Mikey.

"You got this, Mikey!" Matt affirmed, following Ray. Frank said nothing as he passed the boy. Mikey looked over at Gerard, his brows furrowing with nervousness.

"Gerard, I don't know if-"

"Shut up." Gerard steadied Mikey bracingly and looked him in the eyes. "Just go out there and play like you mean it."

"What if I fail?" Mikey shoved Gerard's hands away from him. "What if I go up there and blow it all?"

"Look," Gerard sighed angrily. "I don't know what's gonna happen. You could get up there and fail, for all I know. Whatever. All that matters right now is that you go up there and you try your goddamn best."

Mikey took a moment to look at his brother as the two of them made their way to the break room: his eyes were tired and he wore stress on his face. He looked like someone whose bad decisions had finally come back to haunt him all at once after a while of remaining dormant. Though they weren't visible, the weights holding him down were obvious. Mikey's heart was suddenly filled with worry. Something was seriously wrong.

"What are you looking at?" Gerard asked coldly, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. "Do I need more makeup or something?"

"We need to talk." Mikey stepped closer to Gerard, lowering his voice and shutting the door to the break room deftly, making sure nobody else was around to hear him. "It's about you and Frank."

"Fuck!" Gerard exclaimed, angrily taking a seat at a small table that had been littered with empty beer cans and snack wrappers. "What is it? Are we not convincing anymore?"

"It's not that," Mikey explained, taking a seat across from Gerard. "It's actually kinda... the opposite."

"What?" Gerard huffed.

"Frank came to talk to me earlier today," Mikey whispered. "He was asking me all these questions about you. He was genuinely terrified. I think you should talk to him about it."

"He got you involved in this?" Gerard sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose stressedly. "Shit."

"This?" Mikey enunciated. "What exactly does 'this' mean? Is something going on?"

"Before I say anything, are you actually asking me or do you already know the answer?" Gerard tilted his head slightly as he spoke.

"You told me you explained it all to him," Mikey recalled. "He obviously didn't get it, though."

"Yeah," Gerard breathed, his eyes shifting across the room as he spoke. "Shit's all upside down."

"Gerard, I don't think you're totally clear," Mikey commented. "Frank is in love with you. Like, seriously. He thinks you love him back. He has no idea you're str-"

"Shh!" Gerard put a hand over Mikey's mouth, terrified of what he was about to say.

"Get the fuck off me!" Mikey shouted, shoving Gerard's hand away roughly.

"Sorry," Gerard halfheartedly apologized, with a heavy exhale. "It's just... I don't know who could be listening in."

"Who's listening in?" Mikey scoffed. "That's what you care about right now? Frank is in love with you! You're gonna crush him!"

"Why do you suddenly care so much?" Gerard challenged, folding his arms over his chest defensively. "You've never really liked Frank that much anyway. Why don't you get off my case?"

"What?" Mikey challenged, loudly and angrily. "You're talking about a human with feelings here!"

"You're talking about things you don't understand," Gerard condescended.

"Am I?" Mikey sassed. "I think I know love when I see it. You need to let Frank in on this cruel joke before he gets hurt."

"You know love when you see it?" Gerard chuckled. "You say that like you know what being in love feels like."

"What if I do?" Mikey argued, not thinking at all about what he was saying. "What if I told you I know firsthand how painful it is, but at the same time, how wonderful it is? That I know what it's like to look in someone's eyes and feel... feel like... Like things aren't so foreign anymore? To be sitting across from someone and suddenly feel like you're... home... where you belong?" Even when you're miles from home?"

Gerard stared at his brother, his jaw slacked and his eyes wide open, letting out a soft, surprised laugh.

"Oh my god," Gerard gasped. "You're in love!"

"No, I-" Mikey tried to correct himself, but it was too late.

"Yes you are, you just told me you are!" Gerard's smile grew happier and happier by the second.

"I'm not in love!" Mikey corrected, with a blush. "I mean, not right now... I have been, though."

"With who?" Gerard pried, excitedly. "One of your ex girlfriends? Which one? Alicia? I liked her!"

"We're getting off topic," Mikey breathed, with a blush. "What are you gonna say to Frank?"

That alone was enough to get Gerard to stop talking for a moment. 

"Mikey, I don't know," He admitted, slumping his shoulders defeatedly. "It's really hard to admit, but I don't have a plan for this one."

They both turned their heads to the door as they heard the knob turn.

"Mikey, are you in here?" Patrick had tiptoed into the room delicately, as if he were worried about disturbing the conversation. "There you are! The guys and I were wondering if you wanted to prepare with us before we go onstage?"

"That's a great idea!" Gerard interrupted, with a sigh of relief. "Alright, Mikey, go out there and kick some ass. I know you can do it."

He pulled Mikey into a tight hug, which the boy reciprocated warmly.

"Thank you."

Mikey stood up from his seat and waved goodbye to his brother before leaving the room with Patrick. Gerard sighed and rested his head on the table exhaustedly. 

"Please let him win this time."

***

"How are ya, Mikey?" Patrick asked, in a charming, friendly tone of voice. "Nervous?"

"A little," Mikey admitted, with a nervous giggle.

"Don't be," Patrick chuckled. "Thank you for filling in, really."

"Don't mention it," Mikey replied. "It's the least I could do."

Patrick sighed and stopped in his tracks before he or Mikey could open the door to the green room. His demeanor had changed from warm and friendly to anxious in a matter of seconds. 

"Look," He explained. "I... I'm sorry in advance if the other guys freak you out. Tensions are really high right now-"

"I understand," Mikey interrupted.

"No, it's not you."

Mikey narrowed his eyes at Patrick suspiciously.

"It's not just you," Patrick corrected, shamefully. "There's... other problems going on between us right now. The guys are just being weird."

"Anything I should know about?" Mikey prodded.

"Nah, it's all personal stuff." Patrick tugged at his sleeves nervously. "Although, just to be safe, maybe try not to talk about Pete."

"Got it," Mikey agreed. 

"Great!" Patrick was smiling once more. "Let me introduce you to the guys, then."

He opened up the door and held it open as Mikey walked through. Joe reclined on the couch, strumming at his guitar gently while it wasn't plugged into an amp while Andy tapped at a desk lightly with a pair of drumsticks.

"Guys!" Patrick announced. "Mikey's here!"

"Hi," Mikey greeted, careful to make a good impression.

"Hey, Mikey!" Andy greeted, setting down his drumsticks for a moment and shaking Mikey's hand firmly.

"How are you?" Joe asked, also shaking Mikey's hand firmly. 

"Good," Mikey said, with a smile. "I'm just happy to be here. Nice to finally meet you guys formally."

"Want a drink or a snack?" Joe offered. "We've got it all-- beer, whiskey, pot--"

"Joe!" Patrick shouted. "No!"

"What?" Joe recoiled defensively. "It's not like it's uncommon."

"He's a kid!" Patrick countered. 

Mikey slumped out of the way, rolling his eyes at the all-too-familiar situation at hand. He watched the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall as he waited for the inevitable 'what? you're seventeen? oh my god!' s to start rolling his way. The others continued to argue bitterly, but Mikey drowned them out as he waited for the night to finally be over.

***

"Gee?" Frank poked his head through the door of the break room, biting into a candy bar and chewing rapidly. "Gee, are you in here?"

"Yeah." Gerard sighed and lifted his tired head from the dirty snack table to look at Frank. "Here I am."

"Were you just asleep?" Frank pushed open the door and took a seat next to Gerard, wrapping an arm around him, trying to be comforting. "What's wrong?"

"Slept like shit last night." Gerard admitted. "Shit's crazy."

"You got that fuckin' right," Frank bit at his candy bar again, then turned it to Gerard. "Want some?"

"I'm good." Gerard slumped his shoulders and leaned down, resting his chin on his forearms solemnly.

"Mikey's gonna be okay." Frank ran a hand through Gerard's hair gently before wrapping an arm around him protectively.

"I sure hope so," Gerard sighed, too tired and stressed to even pretend he was being comforted by Frank's touch. "Oh god, he's going up there all alone... What if he's scared? I should check on him."

"Honey," Frank reasoned, clasping Gerard's wrist and keeping him from leaving the table. "Mikey's gonna be just fine up there. You just gotta let him be."

"He'll be more comfortable with me around." Gerard tried to break free of Frank's grip, but Frank wasn't about to let up.

"You gotta stop looming over him." Frank stood up from his seat and looked directly into Gerard's eyes. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted to get him away from? Someone looming over his every move and controlling his life?"

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Gerard narrowed his eyes angrily at Frank.

"I'm just saying," Frank shrugged. "You were the one who wanted him to get more independent. I know he's your baby brother, but you gotta let him live a little. Just let him be. He's smart, I'm sure he'll be alright."

"Frank," Gerard sighed, taking a seat once again. "I'm terrified for him. I don't want him to go up there and embarrass himself. I did this to him... Oh god!"

He buried his face in his hands nervously and took some deep breaths, trying to pull himself together in his hysterical fit of terror. Half of him was worried that he had just single-handedly cast his baby brother out into the fiery, humiliating throes of the stage with a band he didn't even trust, but the other half of him was worried about his own image; what would it seem like to Mikey if he were to loom over him, scouring for mistakes and praying for perfection. It reminded him of his mother, and how she had treated Mikey after Gerard had left home. He didn't blame her for being protective of her son, he just wished that thing had worked out differently; in a way where everyone could've ended up happy.

He wondered what his mother thought of him and Mikey. He knew it was impossible for her not to have seen them on the news or heard them on the radio by then, so he couldn't help but slump his shoulders in shame at the thought of her discovering where her sons were after so many months of being in the dark. He wondered if she would ever want to talk to him again, even if just once, or if he and Mikey were dead to her by now. 

"What's on your mind, Gee?" Frank asked, sitting down next to Gerard and running a hand through the older man's shaggy, dyed, black hair once again. "Tell me. Maybe you'll feel better."

Gerard rested his cheek on his arms and looked up at Frank, locks of black hair cascading over his face like a stringy curtain. Frank noticed that, as Gerard looked up at him, the light caught his cognac-colored eyes perfectly, enhancing his wide-eyed splendor in all its glory. The brown in his eyes was brought forth by the rings of black eyeliner and red eyeshadow around them, some of which had been sweat off during the show and was now dripping down his face. His eyes were tired and red from being covered in makeup night after night, his hair was stringy and disheveled, and he didn't seem to be in the most responsive of moods, but even so, he was quite a marvelous sight to behold. 

"Nothing," he deadpanned, in a tone that didn't read as 'sad' as it did 'melancholic.' "Just scared for the future."

"I know." Frank leaned down, resting his arms and his head on the table calmly as well. "Me too." 

The two remained there where they were for a while longer, neither of them saying a word, but remaining in each others' company. Gerard took a moment to appreciate Frank; not many people would be willing to wallow in sadness to make their friend feel better. He felt important; like he was actually loved.

"I don't deserve him," He thought to himself, closing his eyes softly and silently praying that things would work out in the end.


	20. Don’t Play With Fire

"Mikey, we're— oh shit!"

"What? Patrick, what?" Joe rushed into the room, followed by Andy. "Oh God!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" Mikey clambered up from his spot on the floor, finding his footing shakily. "I'm okay!"

"Really?" Patrick cocked an eyebrow. 

"You were puking in a trash can one second ago!" Joe interjected. "That doesn't seem okay to me!"

"Let me wash out my mouth, we'll... We'll be all good!" Mikey promised, raising a hand up as if swearing to an oath. "It's... It's all... it's all okay, guys."

"Mikey, if you can't do this—" Patrick started.

"No!" Mikey interrupted. "It was... just nerves. Nerves. Yeah, that's it. I'm fine, really."

"I think we've all been there," Andy sighed.

"Joe!" Patrick shouted. "This obviously isn't nerves! We need to get him to a hospital!"

"Don't pretend it's never happened to you," Joe huffed.

"What, puking?" Patrick scoffed. "Never. Not due to nerves anyway."

"What about that night in Toledo?" Joe reminded, with a chuckle. "You were terrified. You looked like a fuckin' fountain before that show."

"That was different..." Patrick grumbled, a bit embarrassed that Joe was spilling information in front of Mikey. "I had bad Indian food earlier that day..."

"Oh yeah," Joe snarked. "That bad Indian food that we all ate that didn't make any of us sick but conveniently made you sick."

"We don't have time for this!" Patrick changed the subject rapidly.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Andy asked.

Patrick was silent for a brief moment, looking over at the faces of everyone else in the room. He was waiting for someone else to come up with a brilliant idea, but nobody did. He sighed deeply and glanced over at Mikey quickly, almost as if he were disappointed; as if he'd genuinely wished to be surprised by the boy. Instead, he'd have to resort to the plan he never thought he'd have to use.

"I think it's time to admit it's over," he sighed. "We can't do anything tonight. Mikey, I'm sorry we wasted your time. You can go back to the My Chem room if you want."

"At least we tried." Joe slapped Patrick's shoulder bracingly.

"What?" Mikey's brow furrowed with determination. "You're just gonna give up?"

"You're in no shape to do this," Andy explained. "It was stupid of us to try and pile this level of responsibility on you. Sorry to be blunt, but it was a mistake bringing you here."

An uncomfortable silence hung over the room as Patrick, Andy, and Joe waited for Mikey to leave. Mikey, however, stayed put.

"No."

"Mikey, it's over," Joe snapped. "Don't make this harder for us than it has to be."

"So you're just gonna give up?" Mikey growled. "You're just gonna roll over and let your fans hate you because you don't think I can cut it?"

"We know you can't cut it," Joe barked. "You know why? You're a kid, you only learned the songs you have to play today, and most suspiciously, you were just puking in our trash can!"

"Joe, stop." Patrick breathed, calmly. "He wanted to help us. Don't be rude."

"I spent a whole day on this!" Mikey argued. "All I wanted was to help you out! Maybe then you wouldn't fucking hate me and my band!"

"Mikey, s-" Patrick tried to reason.

"No, you stop!" Mikey snapped. "I know what you're gonna say next! I know you're gonna look me in the face and tell me I'm talking about things I don't understand. You're gonna look at me and pretend like you haven't talked shit about me before. Like I haven't had to deal with this bullshit since the minute I joined this fucking band."

"You watch how you say that," Patrick snapped. "This isn't easy for us either, you know?"

"What happened?" Mikey folded his arms over his chest angrily and stared at the others boldly.

"What do you mean?" Joe growled, through his teeth.

"You know what I fucking mean," Mikey frowned. "What happened between you guys and My Chem? None of them will tell me and I'm sick of not fucking knowing anything. I think it's time for someone to fucking tell me something. Why don't you make things easy and spill?"

Patrick, Joe, and Andy were rendered completely silent by Mikey's attack. After a few moments, it became clear to Mikey that he wasn't going to get a clear answer, but he stood his ground and waited as if he were expecting one.

"Guys, you're on in five," A stagehand popped his head through the door quickly, but quickly walked away as he noticed the tension in the room.

"We're on in five," Mikey repeated. "Time to get out there."

As Mikey spoke, he felt fear start to envelop him more and more, but he acted as if he was fine. He knew if he kept his act up, perhaps Patrick, Joe, and Andy wouldn't think of him as such a loser.

"Fine," Patrick breathed. "We're not cancelling. Mikey, you'd better deliver."

Patrick, Joe, and Andy exited the room in a hurry, preparing everything before they got onstage. Now alone in the room, Mikey let himself collapse on the couch, his whole body shaking with terror. He felt as if he were going to puke again, but he managed to stop himself. Instead, he stood up, swished some water in his mouth, and spit into the sink. He looked up at his disheveled reflection and exhaled shakily. He was about to go onstage and play material he barely knew, and to boot, he couldn't mess up; not after how big he had talked.

He tried to give himself a pep talk, but he found it to be completely ineffective. He was stepping out onto a minefield with a blindfold.

* * *

*August*

"Ma'am, I need you to calm down—"

"You don't understand!" A middle-aged, bleached-blonde woman stood at the front of the VIP line, clambering to enter the venue even though she was being denied entry by the bouncer. "I need to get in there!"

"Lots of people have been saying that tonight," The bouncer sighed. "But you can't get in without a VIP pass. Those are the rules."

"Let me in!" The blonde woman shouted. "I'm not here to try and get friendly with the band members! Do I look like some floozy who follows bands around the country to try and score?"

There was a pause.

"Don't answer that." The woman folded her arms over her chest defensively.

"Ma'am, the rules clearly say—"

"I don't think you're listening to me!" The woman's voice broke as she shouted. "My name is Donna Way! I'm Gerard and Mikey Way's mother! One of my sons is the lead singer of My Chemical Romance! My other son is the bass player, and he's also been playing bass with Fall Out Boy for weeks now! Here, it says my name right here on my driver's license!"

"Ma'am, keep your license." The bouncer instructed. "Those are very easy to fake. Don't think you're the first one who's come here saying you're related to someone in the band, either. Although, if you really are their mom, you should be proud. Mikey's one hell of a bass player. Everyone loves him."

"This is different! I'm really Mikey and Gerard's mother! I... I don't know exactly how I can prove it, but I am." 

"Ma'am—"

"Please!" Donna grabbed the bouncer's arm and pleaded with him. "I haven't seen my sons in months! They ran away from home almost a year ago to be in their band and I've been searching for them for so long! I found them on the news when they were getting famous but I didn't have enough money to get backstage... You don't know how long I've been struggling to get here! You don't know the things I've had to sell to afford to get here! You don't fucking know the depths I've sunk to to even get a chance at seeing them again!"

"Ma'am, please don't cry—" The bouncer was beginning to feel sympathy in spite of himself.

"What do I need to fucking do?" Donna shouted through her tears. "Name your price! I don't fucking care what it is, I'll make it work! I just need to get in and see my sons again!"

"I can't let you in," the bouncer sighed, shamefully. "I'm sorry, but those are the rules. I really don't wanna call for backup, but I will if I have to."

"Wow," Donna sniffled angrily, wiping tears from her face. "Denying a mother the right to see her children... that's unbelievable. I hope you sleep well at night."

She was about to walk away, when a little ray of hope shone her way: the fans in line screamed as the backstage door opened and a familiar short, blond singer walked through the lounge. Donna saw him, and immediately saw and opportunity.

"HEY!" She screamed, catching Patrick's attention immediately. "You! Fall Out Boy! I'm Mikey and Gerard Way's mother! Please tell them to let me in!" 

Patrick took a moment to look at Donna. At first, he didn't really believe that she was Gerard and Mikey's mom, but with how hard she was fighting to get in, it seemed impossible for her not to be.

"Let her in, Max." He said, simply.

"You can't just—"

"Yes I can," Patrick affirmed, confidently. "I'll pay her VIP fee. Just let her in."

"Bless you!" Donna shouted, a smile forming on her face.

"Are you sure?" The bouncer still held Donna back.

"Let her in!" Patrick shouted. 

With that, the bouncer lowered his arm, leaving a space for Donna to run through. She happily obliged, running into the room as if she were scared of being dragged out again.

"Thank you!" She ran over to Patrick and wrapped him into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thank you! Thank you! You just saved my life!"

"Oh," Patrick was caught off guard. "Um, you're welcome, don't mention it."

"What's your name, Fall Out Boy?" Donna asked, with a sigh of happiness.

"I'm Patrick," Patrick introduced himself.

"Thank you, Patrick," Donna said, hugging him a little bit tighter. 

"Please, don't mention it." Pete separated from the hug, somewhat coldly. "I'm sorry, I have to get going. We're on soon."

"Wait!" Donna pleaded, taking Patrick's hand so he couldn't walk away too quickly. "Where are Gerard and Mikey? I need to see my sons!"

"Gerard's probably in My Chem's green room," Patrick explained. "If you'd just wait here, I'd be happy to bring him over sometime after the show, I just have to go now. I'm sorry to be so abrupt. Please help yourself to whatever drinks or snacks you like while you wait."

"Bless you, Patrick," Donna said, sitting down in a chair and clearing a spot on the table to rest her elbows. "Have a good show tonight."

"Thank you," Patrick breathed, running out of the room and over to the stage as fast as he could. 

***

Donna spent the next hour or so tapping on the metal table with her nails, a mix of worry and excitement eating away at her. She typed away at her phone, until she heard the door open and shot around to see who was walking through. She was expecting to see Gerard or Mikey, but the man who walked through the door instead was almost equally as familiar.

"Is that Ray-Ray?" She squealed, happily. The startled Ray shot a glance over at her and instantly paled as he realized who it was. 

"Oh my god." His voice quaked as he spoke.

"Ray!" Donna rushed up to him and wrapped him into a tight, motherly hug. "I've missed you so much! How've you been? How's your family?"

"I...I've missed you too, Donna," Ray stammered, timidly wrapping his arms around Donna. "I'm guessing you're looking for Gerard and Mikey?" 

"I'm looking for all you boys," Donna smiled. "I've missed you. It hasn't been the same since you've been gone."

"Ray, who's that talking to you?" Gerard poked his head through the door and looked in, only to pale as well as he saw his mom. Ray tried to silently tell him to run away, but it was too late.

"Gee!" Donna screamed, releasing Ray and pulling Gerard into an even tighter hug. "Oh my god, baby, I missed you!"

"Mom, you... you're here..." Gerard stammered, beginning to feel lightheaded from fear.

"I think I should go," Ray said, clambering out of the room quickly. Suddenly, it was Gerard and Donna alone in the room together.

"Mom, before you say anything," Gerard spoke carefully. "I'm so sorry for how I left... You have to understand that Mikey and I are okay."

"You call this okay?" Donna's tone was starting to change from happiness to anger. "You call kidnapping your brother and dragging him out on the street to be in a band okay?"

"I didn't kidnap him!" Gerard argued. "He's wanted to be a part of this band for years! He came on his own terms."

"You robbed him of his chance to graduate!" Donna shouted. "You couldn't even wait until he was eighteen! You kidnapped him!"

"He wanted to come with me!" Gerard repeated. "He didn't wanna graduate! He didn't wanna follow the rules everyone told him to follow! All he wanted was to follow his dream!"

"You were the one who put those fucking ideas in his head!" Donna screamed. "You left home when you were eighteen! Do you know what kind of shit you did to Mikey's head?"

"Oh, you wanna point fingers now?" Gerard sassed. "Okay, let's point fingers. Tell me, who do you think is more at fault here: the eighteen-year-old who left home to pursue a dream, or the mother who loomed over her twelve-year-old son and controlled his life to the point where all he wanted to do was get out?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Donna's voice was gradually changing from angry to sad. "Just sit back and let another son run away from me?"

"Maybe if you hadn't hounded him so much, he wouldn't have felt like he needed to run away." Gerard immediately regretted saying that, but he knew there was no turning back after that.

"He adores you," Donna breathed, her voice weakening. "You don't know just how crushed he was when you left. Gerard, it's not like I had any other choice. All I wanted to do was help him."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn't need help?" Gerard snapped. "That maybe he and I are living our best lives because we broke away and actually did something instead of staying cooped up in the house like you wanted us to?"

"It's a bad world out there," Donna explained, a tear rolling down her face. "I just didn't want you to get hurt... or killed."

"Look where we are now!" Gerard shouted. "We got out of there and now we're famous! We're in a band! We're making enough money to pay off all the family debts! We're living life to the fullest and we never would've experienced it if we'd followed your rules! Do you think Mikey would be playing bass with the one of the hottest bands on the planet right now if he'd stayed with you? We're doing fine!"

Donna opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by the door being kicked open harshly by Frank.

"Gerard! I'm sorry for interrupting, this is an emer—" He stopped talking when he saw Donna. "Donna, is that you?"

"Hey, Frankie!" Donna beamed. "Good to see you again!"

"You too, Donna!"

"Frank!" Gerard shouted. "Did you say emergency? What's happening?" 

"It's Mikey," Frank stammered, rapidly. "He was walking off the stage with Fall Out Boy and he just collapsed! He smells like expensive booze, though, so it's pretty clear why he collapsed."

"Are you saying my baby son is drunk?" Donna screamed, furious. 

"That's what it looks like," Frank said. "Gerard, we need to take care of him."

"Oh!" Donna shouted, sarcastically. "So he's in such a good place, huh? Mikey, baby! I'm coming!"

She ran out of the room as fast as she could, Gerard in tow.


	21. In My Place

"The ambulance should be here any minute!" Andy shouted, shutting his phone sharply and rushing into the room. "Is he up yet?"

"Mikey! Mikey! Get up!" Patrick had knelt down by the now unconscious Mikey's side and was attempting to wake him up. "Oh god! What have we done?"

"We?" Joe inquired. "What'd we do?"

"We let this happen to him!" Patrick let out an exasperated sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"Mikey! MIKEY! Stay with me!" Joe prodded Mikey until, suddenly, the boy's eyes opened. They were red and bloodshot, and couldn't seem to keep focus on anything.

"What's going on?" Mikey slurred, trying his best to prop himself up.

"Oh thank god!" Patrick let out the biggest sigh of relief of his life.

"Mikey, its okay," Andy spoke slowly and clearly so the boy could understand him. "You're gonna be okay."

"Did I finish the show?" Mikey tried his best to sit up, but found it impossible. "Did... did I finish the show?"

"You did," Patrick comforted, helping Mikey to sit up, immediately recoiling as soon as he smelled the pungent aroma of hard alcohol on Mikey's breath. "You did a great job, just like all the other days. You just... wow... you seem to have gotten into something of ours."

"Mikey," Joe knelt down as well. "We need to know exactly what you got into. I know you're having trouble thinking right now, but we need you to try and remember."

"Um..." Mikey had lost too much energy to even try to lie about drinking. "I got into that bottle of... of tequila on your shelf..."

"You drank a whole fucking bottle of tequila!?" Patrick shouted, his eyes widening. "Oh my fucking god, Mikey, how are you alive?"

"Wait, the tequila we were saving for Joe's birthday?" Andy clarified.

"You got me tequila for my birthday?" Joe asked.

"Shut up, Joe!" Patrick grimaced, seeing the practically comatose state Mikey was in. "Oh no, this is bad..."

"Patrick, is everything okay?" Andy grabbed Patrick's shoulder bracingly. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"His mom's here." Patrick paled immediately, as did the others.

"What?" 

"Please tell me I heard that wrong."

"His mom's here." Patrick repeated. "He and his brother ran away without telling her and she's been looking for them for months..."

"Oh, this is bad!" Joe's heart dropped.

"Where is he?" A paramedic shouted, rushing through the door with two other paramedics.

"He's here," Patrick called. "Tequila poisoning, we think."

"We'll take care of him," the first paramedic declared, kneeling down to Mikey's level. "What's your name, kid?"

"Mik...Mikey..." Mikey slurred. "Way. Mikey Way. I'm in My Chem—"

"Mikey, we're gonna help you," the paramedic spoke clearly. "C'mon, I'm gonna help you get to the ambulance. Can you try and stand up for me?"

"Where are you taking me?" Mikey's eyes were starting to roll back as he was hoisted up and propped up weakly on his feet.

"Hey!" The paramedic shouted, trying to keep Mikey's attention on him. "We're gonna take you to the hospital."

"I don't wanna go..." Mikey's eyes were glassy like a porcelain doll as he was shakily supported out of the room. "Don't make me go... Don't make me..."

"Maybe he'd be more comfortable if one of you guys came along," another paramedic suggested to the other three.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Joe said. "He really doesn't know us that well. It's not like we'd be much help."

"It's scary being shoved into an ambulance by yourself, especially in his state," the paramedic explained. "He just did a show with you, so you must know him well enough. I think one of you should go with him. You know, for emotional support."

"I really don't kno—"

"I'll do it," Patrick stepped up. "You're right, he shouldn't be alone."

"Fantastic," the paramedic smiled. "Come with us."

"Hey," Joe held Patrick back for a moment. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Helping," Patrick said. "I don't see anyone else willing to do it. Let me fucking go."

He tore his arm out of Joe's grip and ran out of the room quickly, jumping into the back of the ambulance with Mikey. Joe sighed an exasperated sigh.

"Don't say it," Andy warned.

"You know why he's doing this, right?" Joe folded his arms over his chest.

"Stop—"

"You stop," Joe scoffed. "We can't keep walking on eggshells around him forever. He needs to hear some truth from us. Now."

"Why now?" Andy asked. "What, is there not enough drama going on in his life right now?"

"He doesn't even know what he's doing." Joe answered. "We need to hold an intervention."

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Andy muttered. "I'm just saying that the timing's not right."

"The timing's the least of our worries." Joe said. "It's time for him to hear this and it has to be from us. You want to be his friend, right?"

"Don't pull that shit with me," Andy warned. "That might work with someone else, but not with me. I know when someone needs their space."

"We've given him space!" Joe shouted. "We've given him too much space! It's gotten to the point where we're all just blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room and... and..."

He paused, realizing that he didn't want to say the next words in the sentence.

"Well, go on," Andy spat. "You has the nerve to start, so fucking spit it out."

"It's driving us all apart!" Joe blurted, loudly. "It's ruining our friendship! I don't know about you, but if we don't talk about it soon, I don't know how much longer we can keep this band going!"

He breathed shallowly, leaving Andy in a state of shocked silence. Neither of them wanted to say anything and make it all more awful than it needed to be. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a door being slammed open followed by furious footsteps.

"One of you better fucking tell me where my son is or there'll be hell to pay!"

* * *

"Hey, Mikey," Patrick shot a friendly grin at Mikey, doing his best to comfort him as he lay in a hospital bed, his mind melted from the alcohol he'd consumed. He tapped Mikey on the shoulder, and Mikey looked at him, his eyes glassy and zombie-like.

"What's going on?" Mikey slurred. "Why am I hooked up to all these machines?"

"You're gonna be fine." Patrick was talking slow and making sure to enunciate. "You just got your stomach pumped and you're on fluids, but the doctors are saying you'll be okay."

"I'm cold," Mikey slurred, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering. "It's, like... one fucking degree in here."

"There's more blankets." Patrick unfurled a blanket from the side table and draped it over Mikey. "There. Feel better?"

"I do." Mikey snuggled close to the blanket. He immediately seemed more comfortable. "Thank you, Patrick. You're being really fucking...  nice to me. Why?"

"Because I like you," Patrick sighed. "You're a nice kid. You just... made a mistake tonight."

"Fuck!" Mikey's smile suddenly faded away. "Did I mess up the show? I'm sorry... I'm... working so hard—"

"You didn't, you were perfect." Patrick took a seat next to the bed as he held the conversation with Mikey. "I think that might've been part of the problem. You drove yourself crazy trying to be perfect and now here we are. We should've kept a closer eye on you, but we just... we didn't expect you to do something like this."

"I'll do better tomorrow," Mikey promised, the sadness in his voice making it even harder to understand him. "Patrick, I'm... I'm not gonna mess up tomorrow."

"You're not going on tomorrow," Patrick reminded.

"What?" Mikey gasped, a few tears streaming down his face. "Why... what are you... cancelling?"

"Don't cry, please," Patrick did his best to comfort the boy. "Pete's coming back tomorrow. He's gonna go back to playing bass for us."

"He's coming back?" Mikey's face brightened a tiny bit at the mention of Pete's name.

"Yeah, he'll be here in time for the show," Patrick smiled. "I'm happy he's finally feeling better. I can't wait to have him back."

"Me neither," Mikey blurted, with a sad sigh. Suddenly, he began to cry again.

"Mikey?" Patrick sympathized, doing his best to make the boy feel better even though he knew he couldn't. "Mikey, what's wrong?"

"I-I've been lying to them this whole time," Mikey sobbed, dramatically. "To my band... I  feel so bad..."

"Lying?" Patrick asked. "About what?"

"I've been keeping secrets." Mikey sniffled loudly. "They're eating me alive and I don't know how much more I can take."

"I'm good at keeping secrets," Patrick suggested. "Maybe you can start to feel better by letting me know how you feel."

"I can't tell you."

"You can if you want to," Patrick suggested, lowering his voice to a soft murmur. "I'll tell you a secret first if you want. Will you trust me then?"

"I don't know," Mikey whimpered, weakly.

"Okay, I can go first." Patrick racked his brain for secrets for a moment before speaking again. "I've got one."

Mikey settled into the couch and fixed his bloodshot, tear-filled eyes on Patrick as he waited for a story. Patrick sighed deeply before he spoke.

"I don't like being in Fall Out Boy. Not anymore, anyway."

Mikey sat up as best he could and focused all the attention he had onto Patrick.

"But, I thought—"

"Everyone does." Patrick averted his gaze for a moment in shame. "Everyone thinks I live this wonderful life, but really, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"You love music," Mikey slurred. "Isn't this every musician's dream?"

"I still love music," Patrick sighed. "I'll always love music. I'm just not loving... what I do anymore."

"What do you wanna do?" Mikey asked.

"That's the problem," Patrick admitted. "I can't see myself doing any other job. I mean, sometimes, I wish I could go to college and become a businessman or something, but right now, I can't see myself doing anything but music. I'm trapped, but I'd be just as trapped doing anything else."

"That makes no sense."

Patrick remained silent and choked back his emotions with a gulp. 

"Of course it fucking doesn't." He rolled his eyes. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Word," Mikey responded, nonchalantly.

"Alright, I said my thing, so what's bothering you?" Patrick asked, silently praying that Mikey would forget everything by the next morning.

"It's really not easy to explain," Mikey tried to stall for time, but ultimately found himself too incapacitated to keep up the act. "It's about... It's about Pete."

"Oh?" Patrick was listening intently. "What about him?"

"He..." Mikey was too drunk to realize that he should've been keeping a low profile. "He's... my best friend. I know that's weird, cause, like, we're supposed to not like each other and shit, but hey... the world works in mysterious ways, right?"

"Best Friends?" Patrick inquired. "How was he your best friend? You barely even know him."

"Yeah, I do," Mikey blurted. "We talked a lot really late at night. This one night, the two of us danced... to Lady Marmalade. Most fun I've ever fuckin' had."

"That's news to me." Patrick leaned in, listening to Mikey's slurred babble. "Where'd you meet?"

"Diners." Mikey answered. "Also there was that beach meet up on the Fourth of July... We... he..."

Without warning, Mikey was crying.

"Oh no!" Patrick comforted. "Don't... don't cry! He's gonna be fine."

"I know that," Mikey sobbed. "I'm dealing with another problem. That night, I... I realized something. I feel like I need to talk to him about it, but I can't... I can't bring it up."

"What's wrong?" Patrick prodded.

"I... I realized... I realized I'm in love with him." A few tears rolled down his face as he laid back on the couch and covered his face with his hand shamefully. "But he doesn't love me back. Oh my god, how do I talk to him about something like that?"

Patrick was taken aback by what he had just heard, but he wasn't about to try and talk to Mikey anymore. He'd already pushed that limit.

"Mikey, it's all okay." Patrick reassured,  standing briefly and pulling the blanket back over Mikey. He was completely unsure of what else he could do to help. "Things'll be better in the morning."

"Promise?" Mikey asked.

"Cross my heart." Patrick took a seat back on the chair. Suddenly, the door flew open loudly, a familiar woman making her way through.

"What the FUCK is going on here?" Donna screamed, bursting through the door and causing everyone to pale significantly.

"Shh!" Patrick shushed loudly. "He's in bad enough condition as is, he doesn't need to be yelled at right now."

"Shut up, Fall Out Boy!" Donna shouted.

"Oh, fuck..." Gerard had rushed in, immediately wincing at the horrible scene.

"Who is that?" Mikey looked up at Donna, immediately paling at the sight. "Mom?"

As soon as Donna locked eyes with Mikey, all she could do was cry. Something inside of her had switched from furious to heartbroken in a second.

"Yes, baby, it's me..." she muttered quietly, trying to hold back her emotions as best she could. "Oh, Mikey, I missed you so much..."

"Me too," Mikey admitted. "Mom, I... I'm sorry... I messed up..."

"Just don't worry about that right now." Donna rushed over to the hospital bed and wrapped her arms tightly around Mikey, which he reciprocated warmly. "I... I'm just happy you're gonna be okay."

Patrick took that as a cue to leave the family alone and began to walked into the hallway, when he felt someone grip his arm tightly. He looked over and realized that it was Gerard.

"Hey, 'Trick," Gerard smiled softly as he shut the door to Mikey's room behind him. "Hang back a second?"

"Oh, um, okay..." Patrick complied, shyly. "Did you call me Trick?"

"Sorry," Gerard sputtered. "I'm just awkward... I thought that would lighten the mood."

"What'd you wanna say?" Patrick asked, cutting right to the chase. Gerard gulped nervously before looking at Patrick.

"Thank you." He blushed softly. "Thank you for stepping in and keeping him company... I don't think a lot of people would've done that. I'm really grateful." 

"Oh, don't mention it," Patrick smiled. "It was nothing."

"Means a lot to me." Gerard smiled back. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," Patrick said, awkwardly ending the conversation. "I should get some sleep before the show tomorrow."

"Wait, one more thing," Gerard called, before Patrick could walk away.

"Yeah?" Patrick asked.

"Did Mikey... say anything to you?" Gerard asked. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Oh, uh," Patrick blushed, remembering what Mikey had just told him. "No... Nothing."

"Okay," Gerard smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. "Again, thank you. I'm sorry I kept you—"

"Don't mention it. See you at the show tomorrow?"

Gerard smiled.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I guess I will."

He waved goodbye subtly and went back into Mikey's room. Patrick kept on walking, unable to take his mind off of the fact that Mikey had just revealed a secret that was about to change everything.


	22. The Fine Print

"It's good to be back," Pete thought to himself as he strolled through the back rooms of the venue slowly. 

A small part of him appreciated being away from the stress of being in a band for a few days, but he couldn't deny that being back in his element was something to be truly loved. The place was practically empty besides the set crew, giving him to the opportunity to take a moment or two to himself before he had to participate in the early stages of equipment setup and checking.

He thought back to the last time he'd had some time to himself to wander around the venue and enjoy the feeling of being in the moment. He remembered the feeling of watching the hustle and bustle around him, the business of the space behind the stage, and the sort of calmness he found in the chaos. He also remembered the sound of a bass clashing to the floor and shattering, and an odd boy with glasses...

Pete wondered how he was possibly going to talk to Mikey after all he had heard on gossip columns. He wondered if he should talk to him at all. He wondered if, possibly, the cure for what he felt for Mikey could be reached by spending time apart from him. He knew it'd be hard letting go, but perhaps that was the better option. Pete was practically kicking himself; he wasn't usually the one to think of responsible options, let alone follow through with them. He took a moment to weigh his options: on one hand was the easy option to stay friends with Mikey, but on the other hand was the option to let him go. The latter would be painful, but Pete couldn't deny that it would definitely be healthier for both of them.

As he sauntered through the empty space, he switched gears and turned his attention to finding a place to sit and grab some water before he made a decision he would ultimately regret. He walked through the backstage area until he found a door labeled "break room," which he immediately opened and took a look inside. Nobody was there.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and silently reviewed the room. It was a good size, he noticed. Not as big or as nice as ones he'd previously been in, but still a decent size. It helped that there wasn't a lot of furniture or band junk laying around. There were some couches, a TV, some instruments, a mini fridge, and a stack of video games, as normal. Something that was different, Pete realized, was that in the corner of the room sat a full-sized white piano.

Normally, Patrick had a keyboard to work with in the break room, but it had been years since Pete had seen a full piano in the break room. It was a rarity indeed, but Pete couldn't help but think about how much he looked forward to having one again.

Without much hesitation, he walked over to the grand instrument, opening it up and seeing the keys all laid out in a row perfectly. He pressed down a few of the keys softly, creating a sort of soft, dissonant chord. He took a moment to look around, making sure nobody was looking at him, and afterwards, sat at the bench and looked over the keys once more.

He stretched his fingers and pressed down on a few keys, creating a perfect E chord. From there, he paused a moment, stopping to think about what to do next. He pressed down on the same keys, creating more long E chords, and from there, he improvised.

His fingers traveled across the keys diligently, creating a beautiful melody that was neither extremely complex nor something a beginner could do.

Mikey opened the door of the bathroom, clutching a small bottle of aspirin in one hand and massaging his temple with the other. He turned to leave, when suddenly, he heard something coming from another room. He considered going back to his tour bus, but his curiosity was piqued. He followed the sound closer and closer, realizing that it was piano music. He kept on walking until he reached the room it was coming from. The door was cracked slightly, leaving him a small window to look through. He saw someone in the room playing piano, but he couldn't make out who it was. He pushed the door open slowly, silently praying that it wouldn't make a sound. Thankfully for him, it didn't.

Mikey's jaw nearly fell open as he realized who it was playing the piano melody. As Pete continued, Mikey watched him in complete awe. Despite the pounding in his head, he couldn't help but smile as he watched Pete play the piano. It was a side of him he'd never seen before; he knew Pete loved music, but piano was an instrument he would've never expected him to like, let alone be good at. It was unexpected. It was beautiful.

Pete struck one final chord of the impromptu piece, letting the notes ring out for a touch longer than the others. He took his fingers off of the keys, taking a deep breath and grinning softly. Mikey smiled too.

Pete sat in silence for a moment, but the silence was soon disturbed by the sound of someone clapping loudly behind him. He turned around quickly, his stomach flip-flopping as soon as he realized it was Mikey.

"Hey," Pete smiled, his eyes immediately brightening at the sight of his friend.

"Hi," Mikey beamed back. "I liked the song."

"Thanks," Pete muttered, with a blush.

"That was really good," Mikey gushed. "I didn't know you played."

"I really don't," Pete responded, with a shrug. "I had a lot of lessons as a kid, but I'm really not that good at all. Patrick's the one who's actually good."

"Don't be modest," Mikey chuckled. "It's better than a lot of us could do."

"Us?" Pete asked.

"People around us, I guess," Mikey shrugged. "I dunno, besides Patrick."

"Not the strangers," Pete commented. "You never know what strangers are capable of."

"I guess so," Mikey ventured. "But—"

"That's what scares me." Pete put his hands into his pockets as he spoke. "You never know what kind of secrets the people we don't know keep."

"The people we do know are worse, don't you think?" Mikey stepped in a little bit closer to Pete. "You think you know someone, but then they could say one thing and suddenly all the tables turn."

The smiles they'd shown when they first saw each other had softly faded by that point. Neither of them were willing to make any more small talk and that was obvious.

"I heard about what happened last night," Pete commented, bluntly. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like shit." Mikey admitted. "But yeah, I'll be better in a little bit."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Pete sighed with disappointment.

"I fucked up," Mikey sighed. "I really fucked up badly this time and I'm gonna have to work hard to build myself up. I made a shitty choice."

"You and I both know that." Pete rolled his eyes. "Why'd you do it?"

Mikey gulped nervously and exhaled before he spoke.

"I was stupid," Mikey admitted shamefully. "I was scared and I thought it'd calm me down. I fucking overdid it and—"

"Oh..." A look of realization crept onto Pete's face.

"Don't worry," Mikey sighed. "I'm over it; I've learned my lesson."

"You're just lucky the press isn't making such a big deal out of this yet," Pete huffed. "At least they're giving you some breathing room."

"Do you think my reputation is ruined?" Mikey asked, timidly.

"I dunno," Pete shrugged. "I think you kinda gave up the 'good reputation' thing when you decided to be in a band, but I don't think this should tarnish it more than it already is. Not in the long run, anyway."

"What about now?"

"Now?" Pete took a moment to think. "Probably. People will be against you for a little while, but after awhile, they should forgive you."

"Ugh," Mikey moaned, massaging his aching head. "How did I never expect this to happen to me?"

"It's in the fine print." Pete rolled his eyes and grinned in spite of himself. "All celebrities go through something like this. Sometimes it's drugs, sometimes it's a sex scandal, sometimes it's snapping and beating the shit out of the paparazzi; either way, it's the same kind of thing." 

"That's what I always thought," Mikey chuckled to himself softly. "I guess I just never thought it'd happen to me."

"You just can't let that happen to you again," Pete warned, suddenly serious. 

"Yeah," Mikey agreed. "I definitely learned my lesson. I can't let any more dirt get out to the press."

"Mikey, that's not what you should be worried about." Pete's brow furrowed. 

"What?"

"Mikey, you were in the hospital last night," Pete reminded, brusquely. "Are you seriously more worried about your reputation than that?"

"That's a stretch, don't you think?"  Mikey avoided the horrifying question. "I'm not the first person to get drunk."

"You could've died!" Pete shouted, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You're seriously gonna stand in front of me and tell me that means nothing to you?"

"Pete, it's not—"

"Shh!" Pete shushed loudly, listening carefully. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Someone's coming."

Mikey felt his heart sink in his chest.

"Shit!" He whispered. "What do I do?"

"Hide!" Pete ordered, fear in his voice. "Get in the closet! Quick!"

Mikey didn't hesitate for one second in rushing over to the closet and shutting the door behind him. The space was small and awkward due to the many things that had been thrown in it, and the only light source came from the little slits in the door that Mikey could barely see out of.

Pete made sure the closet door was closed before rushing back to the piano bench and tapping out a couple more notes on the keys as the sound of footsteps drew closer. He heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, turning to face the door. The door opened and Patrick walked in, looking frantic yet trying to hide it.

"Hey," Patrick greeted, shutting the door behind him. "It's just me."

"Where are the others?" Pete asked.

"Sleeping," Patrick shrugged. 

"What're you doing up, then?" Pete asked.

"I could be asking you the same question," Patrick chuckled awkwardly. Suddenly, the two were shrouded in awkward silence. Something was wrong.

"What's going on?" Pete asked, carefully.

"Pete, I was worried about you," Patrick blurted, sadly.

"Patrick—"

"Don't start with me." Patrick was suddenly sharp and somewhat aggressive. "I came here to talk, and if I don't say this now, I don't think I ever will. We should sit down."

Pete complied with what Patrick said, his heart pounding with fearful anticipation. Patrick took a breath before looking back at Pete.

"You've heard about what happened to Mikey, right?" Patrick asked, to which Pete nodded. "I was with him for an hour or two in the ambulance and in the hospital. He, um, told me some things."

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-" Mikey thought to himself, silently watching the confrontation from the closet.

"What... what did he say?" Pete asked, starting to sweat nervously. 

"I think you can guess," Patrick sighed. "Don't try to hide it, I know everything about you two."

"What?" Pete tried to play dumb, but he was terrified. "I don't—"

"Stop." Patrick put a hand on Pete's shoulder bracingly. "I know about the early mornings, I know about the diners, I even know about Lady Marmalade."

Pete gulped nervously.

"You two are close." Patrick tugged at his sleeves timidly. "Really close."

"He was drunk," Pete interjected, obviously flustered. "He was talking crazy. I barely even know him. He doesn't give a shit about me."

Even though Mikey knew Pete had only said that to keep their cover from being blown, he couldn't help but feel a little hurt. 

"Oh, he gives a shit about you," Patrick said. "That part's for sure. Don't try to hide it from me, I know you guys are friends."

Pete remained silent for a moment, deciding what to say next. He gulped, worked up his nerve, and finally spoke.

"Okay," he admitted, toppling over like a house of cards in the wind. "I... I'm friends with him, okay? He's a really nice kid. There, I said it. Patrick, please don't tell the others."

"Pete—"

"Please," Pete pleaded. "The others can't know about this... what would they say about me if word got out that I'm friends with someone from My Chem?"

"I know." Patrick clapped his best friend's shoulder bracingly. "Pete, don't worry about it. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you!" Pete leaned in and hugged Patrick tightly, which Patrick returned. Mikey was confused; this was a side of Pete he'd never seen. As far as he had seen, Pete wasn't usually the type to hug like that.

"Pete, Mikey told me other things too," Patrick muttered, breaking away from the hug and looking at Pete again. "He really got me thinking about you. Pete, I need to know if you're okay."

"What?"

"It's a simple question," Patrick furrowed his brow seriously.

"Yeah," Pete answered. "I'm out of the hospital. I'm gonna be okay. I'm fine."

"No you're not! That's the problem!"

"Patrick, I think you're spiraling," Pete spoke gently, trying not to agitate Patrick more than he already was. "You're getting worked up over noth-"

"Why'd you do it?" Patrick blurted, trying his best to keep his composure.

"Do what?"

"You know what I fucking mean, Pete."

"The fireworks?" Pete asked. "I set them off to distrac-"

"No!" Patrick snapped. "I'm talking about that night in that Best Buy parking lot a few months ago. Why'd you fucking do it?"

Pete gulped nervously, his heart pounding in his chest.

"You wouldn't understand—"

"Don't pull that shit with me!" Patrick shouted. "Don't you dare sit there and tell me I wouldn't understand! You did something that drastic and you're telling me I wouldn't understand if you told me why you wanted to do something that drastic?! Maybe if you just fucking told me why, I'd understand you! Maybe then, I could fucking help you!"

"Patrick, stop—" Pete breathed, shakily.

"Was it because of me?" Patrick looked Pete in the eyes as he asked this, his voice breaking. "Don't fucking lie to me."

"What?"

"Remember that one night in the back of the tour bus?" Patrick's voice had broken again. "It was about a week before... before Best Buy. Joe and Andy were out, and you and I were all alone. You leaned over to me and... and you told me you... you wanted to tell me something... something that you needed to work up courage for..."

"Stop—"

"You told me you loved me..." A tear rolled down Patrick's face as he spoke. "And not as a friend either. I'm never gonna forget that. I'm never gonna forget that feeling I felt right then... When I knew I was gonna have to tell you that I didn't love you like that. It broke my heart to see you so vulnerable and then... to shoot you down like that. It tore me to pieces to think that I had to break your heart like that. The only time I've ever felt worse was—"

He let a sob out and took a deep, shaky breath in before speaking again.

"—was when I... I got a call from our manager about... a week later at four in the fucking morning, and... and he told me you tried... tried to kill yourself... a-and... you were in the hospital... being treated for a p-pill overdose."

Mikey gasped softly and tried to be as silent as possible, but it was hard not to topple over when he was trembling like a leaf. Patrick seemed like he wanted to say more, but he was cut off by a flurry of sobs. Pete remained silent, though a few tears made their way down his face as he watched Patrick fall apart in front of him.

"I thought it was my fault..." Patrick muttered, trying desperately to keep from being too hysterical. "And I-I dont think I could live with myself if it really is."

"It wasn't you," Pete blurted, wrapping his best friend into another tight hug. "There were a million fucking things running through my head that night but I swear on the lives of everyone on this goddamn planet, you weren't one of them."

"Don't say that if it's not true."

"This is the most honest I've ever been," Pete promised. "I mean, it made me sad in the moment. I really did have feelings for you, but I always sorta knew you'd say no if I asked. I just wanted to make sure before I moved on, you know? I promise, I would never resort to such drastic measures over something as trivial as getting turned down."

"Really?" Patrick asked, regulating his breathing gradually.

"I promise," Pete said, forcing himself to crack a friendly smile. He thought that maybe he could help Patrick feel better if he remained calm enough.

"Thank you," Patrick breathed, his voice shaky and sad, yet somewhat liberated. "Pete, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." Pete forced another smile to comfort his friend. "All is forgiven."

"No," Patrick said, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice seriously. "I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you next."

Pete's brow furrowed with confusion.

"Pete, Mikey told me that he's in love with you."

Mikey had to stifle a scream as he heard Patrick say that. Pete felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"What?" He asked.

"He loves you." Patrick averted his gaze from Pete. "He really does. He was sad about it, though. He told me he was sure you didn't feel the same way."

"Oh..." Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening in genuine shock.

"Pete, you have to stop this." Patrick warned bluntly. "This... whatever this is that's going on between you and Mikey, it needs to stop. He's a kid, he's going through some things, he needs to know that you can't possibly be with him. I think what he needs is to be away from you. Like, away away."

Pete gulped sadly, searching for the words to say in response. In his heart, he knew that Patrick was right, but he didn't want to believe that was the only option.

"I'm sorry, Pete," Patrick sighed. "I really wish it didn't have to be like this, but you and I both know we just can't afford to have someone from My Chem fall for you and get his heart broken. We can't hand them another reason to hate us."

"No, no, you're right," Pete sighed sadly. "How do you think I should do it? Should I talk to him?"

"It's the right thing, I think." Patrick stood up from the couch. "You should just... break things off before his hopes get too high. It'll save him a lot of pain if you do it soon."

"Are you leaving?" Pete stood up as well.

"Yeah," Patrick muttered, shyly. "I think you should take some time to work this out on your own. I'm gonna go, uh... get ready for tonight's show."

"Okay."

Patrick left the room, closing the door behind him softly. Pete waited a few moments before rushing over to the closet and throwing open the door.

"Pete, I'm sorry, I didn't mea—"

"Is that true?" Pete asked furrowing his brow. "Did you really say you loved me?"

"I was drunk..." Mikey stammered. "I didn't know what I was saying... I didn't mean to—"

"Mikey," Pete sighed. "I think you need to go."

"What?"

"You and I need some time apart." Pete remained stoic as he spoke, but in reality, his heart was shattering thinking about how Mikey must have been feeling. "There's shit we need to sort out before we can see each other again. Problems we need to solve. Battles we need to stop. Decisions we have to make."

"But Pete, I didn't get to tell y—"

"I know what I need to know." Pete stepped aside, allowing Mikey to pass him. "I think you should leave now. Before people start showing up and questioning you."

"Pete, listen—"

"Leave!"


	23. A Compromise

"Ray, get over here! Music Insider is on!" Frank called, reaching his hand into a bag of granola and shoving a hefty amount into his mouth.

"Why would I ever wanna watch this crap?" Ray looked over, suddenly disgusted by what he was seeing. "Frank, if you're gonna insist on eating my granola, can you please not make such a goddamn mess?"

"You're the one who didn't buy more microwave popcorn," Frank spoke, through a mouthful of granola. "So technically, this one's on you."

"Ugh," Ray sighed, slumping his shoulders tiredly.

"C'mon, sit," Frank beckoned. "Nicole's in a Gucci dress today. Looks like someone got a raise."

"Who?"

"The woman," Frank explained, pointing to the TV.

"Oh, her."

"Sit down," Frank beckoned, once again. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down?" Ray questioned. "Frank, how could you possibly expect me to calm down right now? When Donna is right outside the building yelling at Gerard and Mikey? When our entire tour and image could be at stake?"

"Stop being so dramatic!" Frank leaned back into the couch, plopping his feet onto the coffee table in front of him. "Donna's cool, don't worry about it."

"She's cool?" Ray spat. "Is she really cool with the fact that her seventeen-year-old son almost died while under our watch?"

"He didn't almost die," Frank trivialized. "He just overdid it. It happens to the best of us. Plus, he wasn't under our supervision at the time. If anything, Donna should be mad at Fall Out Boy."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously enough!" Ray sat next to Frank on the couch.

"And I don't think you should make such a big deal out of it," Frank retorted. "She's gonna be furious with them for a little while, but she loves those two more than anything. She'll be okay in a little while."

"But what if she isn't?" Ray leaned in. "What if she decides to take Mikey home with her? What'll we do then?"

"Worst case scenario, we'll have to replace him for a few weeks," Frank shrugged off. "Mikey's turning eighteen in about a month anyway. If she takes him home, he'll just be back on his birthday. She knows that."

"But—"

"Shh!" Frank grinned. "Relax. Everything's gonna be fine. Just focus on Brett and Nicole for now."

"Fine," Ray huffed, turning his attention to the TV.

"—And in other music news, we've got another band member going for a solo career!" Nicole, the woman on TV, squawked, standing behind a reporter's desk, wearing a gaudy pink dress with a giant Gucci label on it and tons of gold jewelry on her neck, wrists, ears, and fingers. Frank looked closely, and realized that her teeth seemed to be whiter since her last episode. 

"Oh boy, how much do you wanna bet this one's gonna end up in the gutter like the rest of 'em?" Brett responded, blandly.

"Nothing!" Nicole smiled widely, the corners of her eyes not wrinkling in the slightest. "This one's not like the others, Brett!" 

"How do you know?" Brett looked over at Nicole for a split second, and then back at the teleprompter behind the camera.

"Oh, I'm not talking about just any typical pop singer," Nicole beamed. "I'm talking about the Dutchess herself; the one, the only, Fergie!"

"Fergie?" Brett gasped over-dramatically. "Like, Black Eyed Peas Fergie?" 

"Who else?" Nicole cackled. "Fergie will be releasing her debut album, The Dutchess, in just a month! September 13th, to be exact!"

"Good for her," Frank praised, calmly. "I've always liked the Peas. I hope she does well."

"Just you wait," Ray snickered. "In just a month or two, they'll uncover some dirty secret about her and then they'll start trashing her."

"What makes you say that?" Frank tilted his head.

"That." Ray pointed to the TV. Frank looked back, to see that the story had changed.

"Anyway, onto some sadder news," Nicole kept her smile, only toned it down as to appear more somber. "My Chemical Romance bassist Mikey Way was recently reported to have been taken to the hospital via ambulance for reasons that were left undisclosed for the public."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Brett asked.

"Our sources have also concluded that the seventeen-year-old is currently in perfect health and was released from the hospital earlier this week. Mikey, we wish you the best of health for whatever traumatic event must have happened. We offer you our thoughts and prayers and we hope you get the help you need to continue on with the tour."

"Yes, we do," Brett agreed.

"Speaking of Mikey Way and his tour," Nicole segued awkwardly. "People going to tonight's show in Aspen, Colorado should expect to see a certain famous face in the crowd supporting her—and, let's be honest, our—current favorite band."

"Yes, Nicole, that famous face will be miss Ashlee Simpson. She's said in multiple interviews that she's been dying to see the band live, but scheduling errors have denied her from attending. That is, until now."

"Ah, we all know why she'll be there," Nicole rolled her eyes playfully. "Something tells me she's there to try and bag a certain guyliner-rocking musician bachelor who has managed to capture all of our hearts with his cryptic charm in recent years..."

"Oh yeah," Brett recalled. "She was the one who was openly crushing on our favorite bass playing emo, wasn't she?" 

"Unbelievable," Ray shook his head, turning his attention away from the tv. "I can't believe they stopped talking about Mikey to focus on Ashlee and Pete..."

"No, no," Frank corrected. "We're so lucky! They could've said something about Mikey being hospitalized for... what actually happened. They let him off easy."

"People don't have to have exact information to guess that a famous musician spent a night in the hospital for a drug overdose," Ray reminded. "We're definitely still in hot water."

"You think I don't know that?" Frank snapped. "All I'm saying is that it's not totally out in the public yet. It's still undisclosed, which helps."

"It's not much."

"It's something," Frank was starting to seem a little worried in spite of himself. "Maybe this is gonna be good for him; he can take a little bit to work on his reputation and think of ways to better his life and then, when word gets out, he can issue an apology and it'll all be over."

Ray remained silent for a moment, as did Frank. The two of them were both waiting for the other to say something, but neither had the courage to speak up.

"Okay," Frank breathed. "Everything's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

He paused, looking up at Ray nervously before speaking again.

"Is it?"

"Hey," Ray clapped Frank's shoulder bracingly. "Frank, don't worry. Whatever happens, we'll make it through."

"I'm not worried about us," Frank clarified. "I'm worried about Mikey. Gerard too."

He paused, collecting his thoughts.

"Gerard went through some bad shit before he turned his life around," He recalled, sadly. "I remember it starting a lot like this. I... I don't want Mikey to go through the same thing—"

"It'll all be okay," Ray comforted. "We just need to keep a close eye on both of them now."

"I... I don't want him to relapse." Frank seemed to sort of cave in on himself as he spoke; his shoulders had hunched and he had wrapped his arms around himself bracingly.

"Then we won't let him." Ray promised. "Simple as that."

"I'm worried about him," Frank whimpered, timidly. "He's not acting like himself anymore. He's distant and he doesn't talk. He's sad and he's scared of something. I don't know what happened to him."

"What do you mean?"

"When I kiss him, it's like he's not even there." Frank was completely vulnerable. "I feel him there, but I don't feel like he's there, you know? Something's happening to him... has he told you anything? Is it my fault?"

"Frank, I think you're spiraling," Ray reasoned. "You're so stressed about all of these things happening at once, you're forgetting that there's good things happening for you too. Gerard really does love you. Anyone with eyes could see that."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Frank stated, narrowing his eyes. 

"I know," Ray sighed. "I know exactly what you're talking about. Frank, I'm scared for him too."

"You are?"

"Watching one of your best friends go through something like he went through isn't easy to wrap your mind around." Ray swallowed solemnly. "Watching three of them all fall apart at the same time is damn near impossible. I'm doing my best to help you guys, but it's only getting harder."

"Ray, thank you." Frank relaxed into the couch. "Thanks for staying with us through all this bullshit. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to look out for us, but we're all so grateful you do."

"Don't mention it." Ray smiled, squeezing Frank's shoulder. "For all it's worth, being a part of this group makes it all worth it."

Frank smiled genuinely, feeling contented with his place for the first time in a long time. Just as he was feeling relaxed, however, the door opened up and all comforted feelings Ray and Frank felt were tumbling down.

"Oh my god," Frank panicked.

"Calm down," Ray comforted as best he could. "Whatever happens, it's gonna be okay."

"Guys," Donna asked, closing the door after Mikey and Gerard. "Can we talk to you?"

"Sure," Ray said. "There's room on the couch."

"Thanks." Donna sat down gingerly. Gerard took a seat next to Frank, and Mikey took a seat between Ray and Frank.

"What's the verdict?" Frank asked.

"Well, I think we all can reach a compromise," Donna spoke lightly. "I know how important this band is to you guys, and I also know that you're really going somewhere. I don't wanna be the one to stop you when you're on such a hot streak. I'm not gonna drag Mikey or Gerard away from the band—"

"Oh, thank god," Frank spoke under his breath.

"—But, there are gonna be some changes," Donna continued, assuredly. "First order of business, I'm gonna be staying with you through the rest of this tour. I don't wanna suffocate you, so I'll give you a fair amount of leash, but I'm definitely gonna be backstage to keep an eye out for any red flags."

"Okay," Ray sighed, relieved that it wasn't worse. "We can handle that."

"It's only fair." Frank agreed.

"Second order of business," Donna stated. "When I'm not around, I need all of you to keep an eye on Mikey. I can't have him doing anything like that again."

The guys in the room nodded. Mikey agreed, yet he felt a pang of shame punch him as he did. He felt like he should have argued more against being under constant surveillance, but a part of him actually felt safer that way. 

Though he'd never admit it to the others, Mikey was actually glad his mother had stepped in to take control. As much as it pained him to admit it, he had no idea what he was doing and neither did the other guys. He knew that if he kept on being free to make mistakes, he was bound to mess up. Having his mother there with him just made him feel better about what he was going to do for the band.

On the other hand, he realized that he'd never get to sneak out and meet up with Pete if he was under constant supervision. That, however, didn't seem to be such a serious problem, considering the outcome of his last meet-up with Pete. 

He decided that, despite his lack of freedom, he'd make the best of it and realize that maybe some guidance was what he needed to set him back on track.

Maybe, after enough time had passed, he'd finally be happy with his life. He'd finally have it all together.


	24. Better Left Unsaid

"Mikes, when I said I'd be fine going anywhere, I didn't really mean anywhere." Gerard opened up the old diner menu in front of him.

"C'mon, this place isn't that bad." Mikey settled into the plasticky, faux-leather booth and opened up a menu. "There's this odd kind of charm to it. Plus, we're only here for a quick coffee fix."

"Mikes, I'm on Gee's side on this one." Donna furrowed her brow. "This place is kinda fucking disgusting."

"Mom!" Mikey scolded.

"Sorry." Donna said, half ashamed and half humored. "I can't help it. Now I know why Gee's always fuckin' swearing onstage."

"Oh, are you talking about last night?" Mikey chuckled. "Believe it or not, he was holding back last night. You have no ide— ouch!"

Gerard had halted the conversation by stomping on Mikey's foot sharply.

"Cut it out!" She smacked Gerard on the shoulder before turning her attention back to the menu in front of her. "And don't you go thinking that I don't know what Mikey's talking about."

"Wait, what?" Gerard was starting to sweat nervously.

"Gerard, you've made the news multiple times." Donna rolled her eyes. "If someone had told me that one day, my son would become a famous musician and then show up on the national news for masturbating in front of an an audience of thousands of people, I'd call them crazy, but here we are."

Mikey couldn't stifle a laugh as she said that, which resulted in his foot getting stomped on once again.

"Knock it off!" Donna snapped at Gerard. "For fuck's sake, it's like I'm taking care of two six year olds."

"And to think Ray and Frank are at a party right now," Gerard sighed. 

"If it were up to me, they wouldn't be at that party either," Donna scolded. "But hey, they're gonna do what they're gonna do. As for you two—"

"Alright, we get it." Mikey said.

"Hey, I recognize that guy," Donna commented, looking over to the door. "He's one of the Fall Out Boys, isn't he?"

"Yeah, that's the bass player," Gerard explained. "He's alone, that's weird."

"What?" Mikey looked over to the door, only to realize that his worst fear was a reality. Pete was in the diner.

Mikey thought about the reason he'd suggested coming to the diner: to reminisce about the fun times he'd had with Pete one more time. He realized that Pete must have been there for the same reason. They needed time apart, but for some reason, they had still been drawn together. All Mikey had to do was lay low and pretend like he never saw Pete in the first place, and he'd be fine.

"Hey, Fall Out Boy!" Donna called, beckoning Pete over. 

With that Mikey's chance at avoiding his problems had vanished. Pete had obviously seen her, so it was impossible for him to walk away.

"Mom, stop!" Mikey whispered.

"What?" Donna replied. "There's almost nobody else here, plus you guys are touring with him. Why make him eat alone?"

"Yeah, Mikey, it's no big deal," Gerard complied.

"I don't think you understa—Hi, Pete!" Mikey greeted, as Pete approached the side of the table.

"Hey, everyone," Pete greeted halfheartedly.

"Good seeing you, Pete," Gerard greeted with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, you too," Pete tossed back. "Well, I should probably get to my table—"

"Oh no, we can't have you eating alone," Donna offered. "Why don't you stay with Gerard and Mikey? They'd love to have you."

"Yeah, why not?" Gerard smiled.

"No, I really shouldn—"

"I insist!" Donna pleaded, grabbing Pete's arm gently. "Please stay."

"Mom, why are you—"

"Shh, Mikey!" Donna hushed. "Be nice."

"Okay," Pete smiled uncomfortably, taking a seat next to Mikey. "I guess I'll stay, then."

"Hey, now you guys won't have to eat alone," Donna summarized. "I'm gonna go. I need some sleep. Love you boys."

"Love you too, mom," Gerard smiled.

"Love you too," Mikey grinned.

Donna walked out of the diner hastily, almost as if she had been dying to leave the whole time.

"How've you been?" Gerard broke the ice.

"Great," Pete answered. "I've never been better, actually."

The three of them suddenly fell silent, none of them wanting to speak for fear of making it all more awkward than it needed to be. That awkward silence was broken by Gerard's ringtone.

"Oh man," Gerard sighed. "I need to take this. I'm sorry, but—"

"Oh, please don't be." Pete smiled. "Go on. We can stay here for a minute."

Gerard left the diner to continue his conversation outside. A minute passed, and then another one. Pete and Mikey sat in complete silence.

"Can I get you guys something to drink this evening?" The waitress asked, walking up to the table.

"Coffee, please," Mikey asked.

"Me too," Pete agreed, with a grin.

The waitress jotted down their order on a small notepad and made her way back to the kitchen. At that point, the diner was basically empty except for the one waitress, the one unseen cook in the kitchen, and Pete and Mikey. Out of all the tables available, the two of them were seated at the same booth, right next to each other. A radio played some pop music quietly, only adding to the uneasiness.

"So," Mikey broke the silence, looking over at Pete with wide eyes. "How're things?"

"Fine," Pete sighed, averting eye contact. "You?"

"I could be better," Mikey muttered.

Pete switched over to the other side of the booth so he was sitting across fro Mikey, and began scribbling some words on a napkin to distract himself from his problems. Mikey took the hint and remained quiet, waiting impatiently for his coffee, although it was hard not to say something when he was sitting across from someone he wasn't even supposed to be close with, let alone like. Pete seemed to feel the same. 

"Here you go, gentlemen." The waitress shuffled by, dropping off two black mugs of coffee at Pete and Mikey's table. "Anything else?"

"No, I don't think so," Pete spoke up immediately, looking up at the waitress politely. "Thank you, though."

"No problem," the waitress smiled. "Call me over if you need something, 'kay?"

"'Kay," Pete parroted back humorously, to which the waitress laughed a bit. She walked away after that, once again leaving Mikey and Pete alone.

Just as Mikey was about to say something, a familiar song started playing on the radio. Both of them immediately perked up as soon as they heard the song start to play.

"He met Marmalade down in old Moulin Rouge, strutting her stuff on the street."

Mikey couldn't stifle a soft chuckle as he remembered the last time he'd heard that song with Pete.

"Lady Marmalade," he commented. "Remember?"

"Of course," Pete smiled, genuinely. "Who could forget?"

The two of them looked at each other, both trying to keep their composure, but couldn't stop themselves from bursting into laughter as they reminisced about the past. It was as if all the bad feelings between the two of them had simply wafted up into the air. Suddenly, everything was completely at ease.

"Wanna dance?" Mikey asked, boldly.

"What?" Pete asked, with a chuckle. "No!"

"C'mon." Mikey stood up from the table and offered a hand to Pete. "For old times sake."

"Your brother's here," Pete reminded. "What if he walks back in?"

"He'll be on the phone for longer than this song lasts," Mikey promised, slyly. "C'mon, it's almost half over."

"Mikey, I don't—"

"Please?"

Pete sighed and looked around to see if anyone was watching him before looking back to Mikey. He smirked, grabbed Mikey's hand and stood up, letting himself have fun dancing to the song with Mikey.

"He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up," Mikey sang softly, smiling coyly over his shoulder.

"Boy drank all that Magnolia wine," Pete sang, coming closer to Mikey.

The two of them began to get into the groove of the song, and by the time the third chorus had started up, they were right back in the old days, singing off key and dancing like nobody was watching.

"Voulez vous coucher avec moi! Ce soir!" The two of them sang in unison.

"And sadly, I know what that means now," Pete added, rolling his eyes and causing Mikey to laugh. The two of them looked at each other, and neither of them wanted the night to stop. 

As the song came to a close, Mikey found himself unable to take his eyes off of Pete. Something about seeing him let his guard down and smile again was truly a sight to behold. Even in the dimmed, artificial lighting of the diner, Mikey found himself enchanted once more. He couldn't help but realize that the two of them had gotten significantly closer together; a perfect distance, Mikey observed, to lean in and kiss him, but as the next song began to play, the magic was gone. As they looked at each other, they became painfully aware of how far apart the feud had pushed them. Pete took a few steps away from Mikey before speaking again.

"We should sit down," Pete suggested, looking around. "Before someone looks in and sees us."

"You're right."

The two of them sat back at the booth, across from each other, neither of them wanting to speak up after the trip they had taken down memory lane.

"Mikey," Pete looked over at the younger boy with both fondness and melancholy in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything." He seemed ashamed. "For getting you involved with this mess, for leading you on, for how I treated you last night—"

"Leading me on?" Mikey asked.

"Making you think that maybe I feel more for you than I actually do," Pete sighed sadly. "Truth is, I really do like you as a friend, but we just can't go farther than that."

"Pete, is this about what I said at the hospital?" Mikey asked. "You know that's not—"

"Do you really love me?" Pete asked gently.

"Pete, I was drunk."

"That's not an answer." Pete looked into Mikey's eyes seriously. "You can tell me, it's okay."

Mikey paused for a moment, deciding what to say next.

"I don't know," he answered. "I really don't know what I'm feeling for you. I know that all that's gonna happen in the end is heartbreak, but I look at you, and it's like I'm in a different world. When you look at me, I can tell that you care about me. Maybe not in a romantic way but you definitely care. You know exactly what kind of trouble being close to me entails, but you still find your way to my side. I almost feel stupid saying this, but I'm just... drawn to you."

He looked at Pete's stern face and realized that he should have stopped talking, but he kept going anyway.

"I can't love you," Mikey sighed, sadly. "I know that."

Pete took a moment to soak in what Mikey had just said, but couldn't find it in himself to say anything back. Mikey took a moment to mentally plan out what he was going to say next.

"Pete," he said, boldly. "Before the two of us head our separate ways, I need to know something."

"Yeah?" Pete looked up at Mikey.

"Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened between us if things were a little different." Mikey's heart was racing, but he boldly pressed on. "Do you ever think about that?"

As Pete's eyes met Mikey's, the tension between them could be cut with a knife. A few silent moments went by, neither of them bold enough to make a move or rational enough to part ways.

"I think it'd be better if that question stayed unanswered." Pete broke eye contact awkwardly. "Mikey, I'm sorry, but—"

"Yeah, I know." Mikey tried to play it off like he was just fine, when in reality, he was completely crushed. "I know. I just thought it... it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"Mikey," Pete spoke sadly, trying to get his sense of empathy across. "I know how you're feeling and I know it's painful, but trust me, I'm trying to help you."

"Why, though?" Mikey asked. "Why do you need to help me? Why can't you just let things happen naturally?"

"I lost that privilege a long time ago," Pete thought back. "Mikey, let me explain it to you this way: back in the late 1800s, there was this French couple. They'd been married for a while, but one day, one of them started having these delusions of intruders targeting them; reports say they said the intruders would spread dust around the house and walk in their shoes at night. Nobody knows who started it, but either way, the two of them went insane together."

"What does that have to do with—"

"My point is that the only cure for What they had is time apart." Pete's heart began to beat faster. "I think you're spinning what we have into something entirely different, and to be perfectly honest, I wanna stop this before... before—"

"Before you go crazy too?" Mikey tossed in, furrowing his brow seriously. Pete opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening up.

"Hey, sorry that took so long." Gerard had a happy spring in his step as he walked in, completely countering Pete and Mikey's emotional confrontation. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," Pete brushed off, standing up. "I think I should go. It's been a long night and I have to get up early tomorrow."

"Okay," Gerard agreed, opening up his arms and wrapping Pete into a brief hug. "Night."

"Night." Pete hugged Gerard back briefly, but split as soon as he could.

"See you later." Mikey waved shyly, unaware of what he should do to say goodbye, possibly for the very last time, while Gerard was in the room.

"I think we're past that," Pete chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He opened up his arms. "C'mere!"

Mikey hesitated for a moment, unaware of what to do. He wondered why Pete was suddenly so willing to hug, but he played along, standing up and wrapping his arms tightly around him as if he'd never be able to do it again.

"For the record, I do think about what could've been," Pete whispered into Mikey's ear, tightening his arms around Mikey slightly. 

Mikey was taken aback, but he pretended as if nothing had happened when Pete let go of him, said goodbye one more time, and walked out of the diner.

"How nice," Gerard commented, when Pete was out of sight.

"What?" Mikey day back down, suddenly nervous.

"Him stopping by and hanging with us—well, you— for a little bit," Gerard smiled. "What'd you guys talk about?"

It took every ounce of strength Mikey had not to spill the truth.

"Nothing much," he shrugged off. "Bassist stuff."

"Ah." Gerard sat back down at the booth, across from Mikey. "Hey, he left his coffee here."

Gerard continued to speak, but Mikey couldn't help but smile a little as he sipped at his now lukewarm cup of coffee. Although not in the way he'd expected, he'd gotten a taste of what it might have been like to be with Pete if things were different, and that was all he needed.


	25. The First Step Is Admitting You Have A Problem

*September*

"Surprise!"

A chorus of excited voices rang out with joy as Mikey walked into the room. Mikey nearly fell backwards out of complete shock, but found himself laughing after taking a brief moment to compose himself. 

"What?" He exclaimed, beaming with happiness. "Is this all for me?"

"Of course, Mikes," Gerard beamed. "It's your birthday!"

"Happy birthday, Baby!" Donna rushed up and wrapped Mikey into a tight hug. "I can't believe my baby son is finally an adult!"

"Thanks, mom," Mikey smiled, as Donna peppered his face with kisses.

"Oh, don't thank me," Donna giggled. "Gee put all this together. I mean, I obviously helped, but he the planning and invited people and stuff. He even paid to fly some of your friends here from Jersey."

"What?" Mikey looked over at Gerard with complete admiration and shock. "Gee, you did this?"

"Yeah," Gerard shrugged. "I know it's not really a big party, but—"

"I love it!" Mikey gushed, an uncontrollable grin spreading across his face. "Gee, thank you so much! I—"

"Thank me later." Gerard pointed to somewhere behind Mikey. "Go talk to your friends."

"I... I can't believe this!" Mikey stammered, almost completely speechless, as he looked over at six of his friends, none of which he had seen since he left. "Oh my god! Guys!" 

"Happy birthday, Mikey," A tall boy with brown hair walked up to him, followed by a few other kids. "Not everyone could come, I'm sorry--"

"Don't be!" Mikey smiled. "I'm just so happy you guys are here for me!"

"Don't flatter yourself," another boy with blue hair chuckled playfully. "Jay, Ritchie, Dina and I have never even been outta Jersey and Maria just came for the free cake."

"I did not just come for cake, asshole," a blonde girl in a black baseball cap—Maria—rolled her eyes annoyedly, but soon grinned, signifying that the whole scene was lighthearted.

"We've all been out of Jersey, Ky," another blonde girl—Dina—corrected. "Even you."

"You get my point!" Ky laughed. "Tonight's Mikey's eighteenth birthday and it's not about us. It's about knocking him down a peg. Doesn't matter if he's famous now, he can't go thinking he's better than us."

"Shut The fuck up." Mikey slugged Ky on the shoulder playfully. "You know you love me."

"Yo, I don't think Alicia's gonna be happy you said that," Ky grinned, flicking some hair out of his face. "Alicia, you hear that?"

"What?" Mikey's face went from happy to surprised once again. "Alicia's here?"

"Yeah over here," a girl in the group, a skinny, black-haired girl with black-ringed eyes and a few tattoos on her arms, spoke up, grinning happily. "And just for the record, I don't approve of you and Ky."

"Alicia!" Mikey exclaimed happily.

"Mikey, I'm so happy to see you again!" She approached Mikey and wrapped him into a tight and loving hug. It took a moment for Mikey to process what exactly was happening, but once he did, he once again found himself shocked.

"It's you!" He returned the hug warmly. "It's really you! God, I missed you!"

"I missed you too!" Alicia released him from the hug and looked him in the eyes warmly. "So much! You have no idea how worried I was about you."

"What? Why?"

"When everyone told me you ran away, I didn't know what to expect." She took Mikey's hands gently in hers and stepped in closer to him. "I tried to get ahold of you, but you never returned my calls or texted me back. You were gone before I got to say goodbye. I... I thought I lost you."

She paused for a moment.

"But then I heard that My Chem was touring with Fall Out Boy and that you were part of it and I... I realized everything was gonna be okay." She wrapped him into another hug. "I just... missed you to death."

"I'm sorry I never returned your calls," Mikey apologized. "I got a new phone as soon as I left."

"I understand," Alicia spoke softly. "I'm just happy to see you again."

She cupped Mikey's face in her hands, tiptoed up, and swiftly kissed him on the lips. He returned the kiss lovingly, his hands falling to her waist.

"Hey, hey!" Donna rushed over and pulled Mikey away from Alicia before the kiss was finished. "I don't care that you're an adult now, I'm gonna need some space between you two."

She left the group after that, only to be replaced by Gerard.

"Not the first time mom's cockblocked someone at a party," Gerard muttered, with a laugh. "Believe me, I know."

"Oh my gosh, Gerard!" Alicia shouted, rushing over to greet Gerard with a hug. "How've you been?"

"Great, Alicia," Gerard returned the quick hug warmly. "You look as beautiful as ever. Did you get a new tattoo?"

"Yeah." Alicia stepped back a little and tugged on the collar of her shirt slightly, revealing an intricate piece across her collarbones. "Like it?"

"Love it!" Gerard smiled brightly. 

"You have any tattoos yet?" She asked, looking over his body briskly.

"Nah," Gerard shook his head. "I'd love to get tattoos, but I have this thing with needles, so—"

"Ah, okay," Alicia nodded.

"I really didn't mean to interrupt," Gerard apologized. "I'll back out."

"Good seeing you again, Gerard." Alicia looked back over at Mikey and wrapped her arms around him, leaning in flirtatiously.

"Ew," Ky spoke up. "Get a room."

"Hey, don't be jealous of me 'cause I bagged Mikey Way and you didn't, bitch." Alicia snapped playfully, glaring back at Ky. A round of 'oooh's circulated around the small group of friends.

"Damn," Ky laughed. "You really went there, huh?"

"Wait, what?" Gerard turned back. "Ky, you're gay?"

"You're into me?" Mikey asked.

"First off: Mikey, you need to stop being modest. Literally everyone at Belleville is into you." Ky laughed. "Second: yeah, I'm gay. And Gee, I really should thank you."

"For what?" Gerard asked.

"I've seen clips of your concerts on the news," Ky said. "And, uh... I gotta be honest: seeing you up there be so open about your sexuality made me feel so much better about myself. You... You really helped me."

"Woah, woah!" Gerard comforted, hearing Ky's voice grow weaker. "Ky, are you okay?"

"Yeah." Ky took a second to try and steady his breathing before speaking again. "Yeah, I just..."

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Gerard tightly.

"Thank you..." he whimpered. "That speech you gave the night after your bus was vandalized... it... it changed me. I... I never thought I'd be okay with who I am, but I heard you speak up and show the world that you're gay and... and I immediately felt better... Thank you, Gerard!"

Gerard's mouth hung open, completely unaware of what to say or do. He felt his stomach sink as Ky spoke to him. He made eye contact with Mikey, his eyes practically pleading for help. The two of them remained silent, but in that moment, Mikey understood exactly what was going through Gerard's mind.

Instead of telling the truth, Gerard allowed the lie to go on simply to  comfort his friend in need. He knew that at its core, the act was noble, but he couldn't shake the thought that everything was built on a foundation of lies. Mikey remained silent as well, not wanting to make things worse.

* * *

"Mikey, are you sure you wanna leave?" Gerard asked, as Mikey pulled on a jacket. "It's not that late. We can stay all night if you want."

"I'm fine," Mikey assured. "Most of my friends are gone now. Plus, I kinda just wanna go to bed."

"Hey," Gerard leaned in closer to Mikey and lowered his voice. "I told the guys not to go back to the bus tonight. If you want it all to yourself, it's yours."

"Oh, wow," Mikey chuckled. "Uh, thanks."

"Hey, dont look now..." Gerard gestured to a spot behind him, where Donna and Alicia were casually chatting. "But Alicia's the only one who's still here. You know if you're both into it, you could—"

"Woah, woah!" Mikey's stomach flopped uncomfortably as he realized what Gerard was talking about. "Are you suggesting—"

"No!" Gerard furrowed his brow. "I don't care that your an adult now, I'm your older brother and I'd never ever suggest that you do that with someone— even if that someone was drop dead gorgeous and who I was sure really loved you— that's just not right. All I'm suggesting is that someone has to take Alicia back to her hotel. You also have the bus to yourself tonight. No connection between the two."

Mikey was able to read between the lines and fully understand what Gerard was saying.

"Of course," he enunciated, sarcastically. "I get it."

"Don't make me regret this," Gerard warned, grabbing Mikey's shoulder and looking him dead in the eyes. "I'm only turning a blind eye because it's your birthday."

"Understood." Mikey was suddenly a little nervous.

"Good." Gerard exhaled deeply. "Don't make any mistakes, clear?"

"Crystal."

The sound of some high heels clicking on the hardwood floor could be heard, and before he knew it, Mikey was face-to face with Alicia.

"I think I'm gonna get going," she yawned. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Hey," Mikey suggested. "Want me to walk you back to your hotel? It's now far from here, right?"

"Really?" Alicia beamed. "I'd love that." 

She took his hand in hers softly, intertwining her fingers with his, and walked out of the room and into the brisk night air. She took large steps to keep up with him.

"Still haven't learned how to slow down for short people, huh?" She laughed softly, struggling to keep up with Mikey.

"Still refusing to put on roller skates and grab onto my sleeve, huh?" Mikey joked back, although eventually slowing down a little bit for Alicia.

"You were always funny," Alicia chuckled. "That's one of the things I loved most about you."

"Really?" Mikey blushed.

"Yeah." Alicia brushed her fringe bangs out of her eyes shyly and looked back up at Mikey. "Well, I shouldn't say loved, because, well, I never stopped loving you."

The two teenagers were blushing in the cold night air, each of them completely lost in each other's company. It was as if they were right back where they'd started.

"Alicia—"

"I'm sorry, Mikey," Alicia yawned. "I think I know what you're gonna say. Any other night, I'd go out on a late night date, but I had a rocky flight over here and I didn't get any sleep."

"Oh." Mikey was half disappointed and half relieved.

"I'm sorry, I know it's your birthday and I should spend time with you, but I'm so tired... I'll be here for a few days more. Rain check?"

"Rain check." 

Mikey felt Alicia stop walking and stopped with her.

"Here's my stop," Alicia sighed, somewhat sadly. "I'll see you later, Mikey."

"For sure."

Alicia tiptoed up as far as she could and gave Mikey a soft goodbye kiss on the lips. Her fingers lingered a little bit longer before she let go of Mikey's hand and walked away. She began to walk up the steps at the front of the hotel, but she then turned back and looked at Mikey. Her gaze was fixed on him in a way he had never seen her look at him: it was complete adoration, mixed with a tinge of tired happiness. After that, she turned back and walked in. Mikey was left with a warm feeling in his gut: he really had missed her, and it was really good to be able to get close to her again. 

He thought about her every step of the way back, but something else caught his eye: at the door of his tour bus stood a figure dressed in a black hoodie, holding a little package with a pretty red bow on it. Mikey chuckled as he realized who it was.

"What're you doing?" He asked, walking up to Pete. Pete's head turned to face Mikey as soon as he heard the boy's voice, and he sighed happily when he realized who it was.

"Hey, stranger," he said, chuckling. "I was just stopping by to vandalize your bus real quick."

"Oh yeah?" Mikey joked back, folding his arms. "Where's your spray paint this time?"

"I have it around," Pete rolled his eyes. "And don't worry, it's latex-based this time. I followed your Jersey-ass advice."

"Seriously though, what are you doing here?" Mikey asked, chuckling softly.

"I didn't wanna tell you," Pete slumped his shoulders somewhat shamefully. "But, now that you've seen me, I think I have to."

"You can tell me." Mikey smiled. "What's that you're holding?"

"Nothing," Pete brushed off. "Someone told me it was your birthday today and I wanted to get you a little something. I was gonna leave it right here anonymously, but now that you've seen me, that's ruined, so here."

"Aww, you got me a present for my birthday!" Mikey chirped happily, taking the nicely-wrapped gift in his hands delicately. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"You didn't have to replace my bass on my birthday," Pete reminded. "I know this isn't anywhere near that level, but—"

"Stop." Mikey interrupted. "Thank you. I love it."

"You don't even know what it is."

"I will." Mikey didn't waste any time taking off the bow and peeling off the silver paper. Under the wrapping was a medium bag of coffee beans. Mikey laughed loudly as he looked over the label, which had the phrase 'home is where the heart is' printed on it in fancy cursive.

"If that's true, we're all fucked," Mikey joked.

"Yeah, yeah," Pete rolled his eyes playfully. "This barista friend of mine told me this is some good shit. I saw the label and I knew you'd get a kick out of it."

"I love it." The sides of Mikey's eyes crinkled with happiness as he looked from the coffee to Pete. "You're enabling my crippling coffee addiction, so thank you."

"The hardest step is admitting you have a problem, so you're past that." 

He patted Mikey's shoulder softly as he spoke. Mikey took a moment to savor the feeling of being touched by him after a few weeks of not even speaking to him. Mikey was well aware of the reasoning behind staying away from Pete, and he knew that if he stayed where he was for much longer, he was at risk of making everything the two had worked to build up crash down right in front of him. Even so, he just couldn't deny that he wasn't able to let go.

"I miss you," Mikey admitted, a soft blush rising to his face.

"Yeah, me too," Pete admitted.

Mikey took a second to look around and see if anyone was watching them before looking back at Pete.

"What would you say to grabbing a cup of coffee with me?" Mikey suggested.

"That's a bad idea," Pete denied. "I grew up near this neighborhood. I know the diners here. One of my best friends got shot at the one around the corner."

"Was he okay?" Mikey asked.

"She ended up fine." Pete answered. "But yeah, it wasn't fun."

"We have a coffee maker in the bus," Mikey suggested, his heart racing in his chest. "Why don't you stop by real quick?"

"We'll get caught," Pete lowered his voice to nearly a whisper.

"No we won't," Mikey promised. "Believe me."

"How are you so sure?" Pete asked, cautiously.

"Just trust me," Mikey said, confidently. "Trust me."

"I should go—"

"Why not stay?" Mikey asked, practically pleading. "C'mon, just for a little while? For my birthday?"

Pete sighed and narrowed his eyes annoyedly. There was no way he could argue with that.

"Fine. Just a little while."


	26. Saying Goodbye Isn’t Easy

"Joe, wake the fuck up!" 

"Wha—" Joe shot up from his slumbering state, completely in shock. "What the hell, Andy? How'd you get into my room?"

"You never lock your doors." Andy furrowed his brow. "Maybe that's why your apartment kept getting robbed back before we were a band."

"You're still on that?" Joe yawned, straightening his back. "That was years ago, and it was only two times—"

"We don't have time for this!" Andy grabbed Joe by the shirt and dragged him out of his bed roughly. "We need to go."

"Wait, what the fuck happened?"Joe shouted.

"Someone slashed the bus' tires," Andy explained, quickly. "The police caught the guy who did it, but they want us to see if we can identify him."

"This is so fucked up," Joe groaned. "Why couldn't they call us in the morning?"

"I dunno," Andy shrugged. "All I know is that they told us to get there soon and Pete is missing."

"Where is he?" Joe asked.

"How the hell would I know?" Andy snapped. "I just said he's missing!"

"You don't have to shout at me!" Joe shouted. "Okay, okay, I think we both need to calm down. What the hell time is it?" 

"A little after midnight." Andy grabbed Joe by the shoulder and dragged him away. "C'mon!"

"Andy, let me get dressed—"

"They won't care how you look," Andy rolled his eyes. "You're there at midnight to try and pick out a suspect. Who cares if you show up in 'I've-given-up' sweatpants?"

"I wasn't—"

"C'mon!" Andy ordered. "We still have to grab Patrick before we—"

"I'm right here," Patrick announced, rushing up to the other two.

"Any news about Pete?" Andy asked.

"I dunno," Patrick sighed. "He's not answering his phone. I'm starting to get worried."

"He's probably just wandering," Andy suggested. "This is really close to where we grew up. He's probably just going down memory lane."

"God, I hope so," Patrick muttered under his breath, his pulse beginning to quicken nervously.

"You let Patrick get ready, but not me?" Joe asked, rolling his eyes as the three of them rushed into the elevator and let the doors shut.

"Joe, focus on the important things!" Andy ordered. "Are you fucking high?"

"Wait, you're not actually high right now, are you?" Patrick cautioned. "'Cause we're going to a police station—"

"Shut up," Joe ordered. "I'm not. Also they're not gonna make me do a drug test to identify someone."

The elevator doors opened and the three of them rushed out of the doors hurriedly. Upon leaving the hotel, they were greeted by a rather unpleasant sight.

"Woah, where are you guys going in such a hurry?" Frank asked, stopping in his tracks and struggling to keep a big box full of party decorations balanced in his arms. "Shit, I'm going down. Ray, help me!"

"I gotcha!" Ray rushed over, helping Frank balance the box right before it fell down. "Frank, why'd you insist on carrying this box? It's bigger and heavier than you are!"

"Don't think I'm not perfectly capable of carrying a fuckin' box," Frank snapped. "It only started falling cause I lost momentum."

"Oh, hey guys." Ray addressed Joe, Andy, and Patrick quickly. "What're you doing up so late?"

"We could be asking you the same question," Joe glared.

"Mikey turned eighteen today," Frank explained, coldly. "We threw him a party. Now, what are you assholes doing up?"

"Frank!" Ray smacked Frank on the shoulder, almost causing the smaller man to fall over due to the unbalanced weight of the box he was carrying. "Shut the fuck up! Be nice!"

"Sorry," Frank huffed. "What are you guys doing up?" 

"Someone slashed our tires," Andy explained rapidly. "The police caught him, but they wanna know if we know who he is. We need to get there soon, but Pete's missing. We need to go and find him."

"Oh god, what a terrible night!" Ray exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

"Wait!" Patrick halted everything for a moment. "Why don't you guys come with us?"

"What?" Frank asked, nearly toppling over again.

"Put the goddamn box down!" Ray barked.

"Yeah, Patrick. What?" Joe confronted his friend.

"We can use all the help we can get finding Pete," Patrick reasoned. "Plus, maybe the guy who slashed our tires is the same guy that spray painted your bus. I know it's a long shot, but it's worth a try, right?"

"Where do you think he is?" Ray played along, though he was beginning to pale in fear. "We can get Mikey to help too. Maybe he's got bass-player-senses or something."

"No!" Gerard rushed into the conversation, trying desperately to hide his discomfort and fear. "I mean... We can't just make him get up and do this! It's his eighteenth birthday, we should leave him be."

He spoke the last three words through gritted teeth, trying to remind Frank and Ray of what he had talked about.

"Right," Frank nodded, understanding completely. "Yeah, got it now."

"Okay," Patrick backed out of the personal conversation. "Uh, we're just gonna go... Thanks anyway, guys—"

"We can help!" Gerard had cracked under the pressure of trying to hide his own panic. "We can manage with just the three of us, can't we?"

"What?" Frank exclaimed, dropping the box and shattering all of the things inside in complete shock. "Shit! Our deposit!" 

"Yeah, what?" Joe exclaimed.

"We don't have time for this!" Andy shouted. "If you guys are coming, you'd better hurry up!"

"We have our own rental," Ray said, signaling to the parking lot. "We'll search for him uptown, you guys search downtown?"

"Okay, fine," Andy snapped. "Lets go—"

"Wait!" Gerard grabbed a sharpie from his pocket and looked desperately for a piece of paper in his other pockets, but couldn't find one. "Damn... Patrick, gimme your arm."

"Wh—"

Before Patrick could answer, Gerard was popping off the sharpie cap with his teeth and writing his phone number on Patrick's forearm.

"For communication," Gerard explained. "Now let's get going!"

Patrick took a moment to look at the sharpie on his arm as everyone else began to scatter.

"Weirdo," he muttered under his breath.

***

"Thanks for having me over." Pete smiled a friendly smile, leaning against a wall and looking up at Mikey. "I like what you've got going on here."

"What, this old thing?" Mikey chuckled softly. "Thanks. Don't mind the mess. That's mostly Frank's fault."

"Are you kidding?" Pete's eyes widened. "For it being so close to the end of this tour, this place is spic and span."

"Really?" Mikey tiptoed up and opened the highest pantry, grabbing the coffee maker and setting it down gently on the counter.

"Yeah," Pete laughed. "It looks like a laundry bomb went off in our bus right now. Well, come to think of it, I think things would look a lot better if an actual laundry bomb went off in our bus, but you get it."

"Laundry bomb," Mikey smiled. "That's a million-dollar idea. You should patent that."

"Alright," Pete agreed. "I'll get my lawyer on the phone as soon as I leave."

"Good." 

"If I had one complaint," Pete condescended sarcastically, looking around the bus one more time. "I'm seeing a lot of band posters here— Anthrax, Smashing Pumpkins, Metallica— where's the Fall Out Boy poster?"

"Oh, I have to keep that one secret," Mikey played along. "I couldn't have you thinking I was obsessed or anything."

"Ah," Pete agreed. "Of course."

Mikey held the coffee bag Pete had given him in his hands for a moment, admiring the label once again before opening it and beginning to prepare it.

"Thank you," he said softly, gratitude in his voice.

"Mikey, it was really no big deal," Pete looked down shyly for a moment. "I wish I could've gotten you something better, but—"

"Stop," Mikey smiled. "Hey, do you think you can do me a quick favor?"

"Yeah, of course." Pete stood up straighter. "What is it?"

"We keep the mugs in that shelf." Mikey pointed up to a cabinet across from him. "Do you think you could grab two while I get the coffee started?"

"Sure," Pete agreed. He tiptoed up and opened the cabinet door, but found himself unable to grab the cups on the high shelf. "Shit, not again."

"What?" Mikey asked, looking over.

"Nothing," Pete blushed. "It's all good. It's not like I'm not tall enough to grab some freakin' mugs or anything."

"Aww," Mikey gushed. "That's so cute!"

"Shut up," Pete brushed off. "It's not cute."

"Lemme help," Mikey stepped in closer to Pete.

"What're you—"

"Giving you a boost." Before Pete could protest, Mikey wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up. Pete let out a shocked yelp as he was picked up.

"Mikey, what the hell?" He exclaimed. "You can't just pick people up!"

"Just did." Mikey set him down softly so he was sitting on the countertop and let go, backing away slowly. "There. You should be able to reach the cups now."

"This is humiliating," Pete grumbled annoyedly, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

"It's fun for me," Mikey laughed, his eyes crinkling happily.

"Here, jackass," Pete jabbed playfully, grabbing a mug from the top shelf and holding it out for Mikey.

"Thanks," Mikey stepped forward to grab the white mug, his fingers touching Pete's for a moment. His eyes darted to the cup, his fingers lingering for a moment.

As much as he hated to admit it, his feelings about Pete hadn't changed since he'd last seen him. He still felt his heart flutter every time he saw him, he still got nervous when walking by him backstage, and he still felt the insane urge to kiss him when he got close enough. He hadn't gotten many opportunities to be close, but right then, he almost felt closer to him than he'd ever been. Maybe not physically, but something else all together.

"Okay," Pete let go of the mug, slightly uncomfortably. "Uh, there you go."

"Did you mean what you said before?" Mikey stepped up boldly and asked. 

"What do you mean?" Pete asked, his heart beginning to race.

"You told me you do think about what could've happened between us," Mikey said. "Did you mean it?"

"Mikey, we agreed—"

"I don't care about that." Mikey pushed Pete's chin up so he was looking him directly in the eyes. "I wanna know."

"Oh, uh..." In spite of himself, Pete felt somewhat intimidated by Mikey's boldness. "I mean, I guess, but—"

"Shh," Mikey smiled coyly. "Yes or no?"

Pete's Heart was racing and he felt himself start to sweat nervously. He took a deep breath before looking back up at Mikey.

"Yes," he admitted, a mix of nerves and interest written on his face.

"What a coincidence." Mikey bit his lip seductively. "I do to."

"Mikey, I know what you're trying to do," Pete tried to back away, but found himself trapped between the cabinets and Mikey. "But this... this is dangerous."

"Nobody's gonna interrupt us," Mikey promised. "Don't forget that it's my birthday and, well, I'm totally free. We have this one night to ourselves, and just in case we never get this chance again, I want you to show me all the dangerous things you've thought about doing to me. You know, if things were 'different.'"

"Holy shit." Pete simply wasn't prepared to see that side of Mikey: the dominant, 'alpha' side. "Mikey—"

"I like it when you say my name like that." Mikey grabbed Pete's hips and pulled him closer, so their bodies were flush with each other. "Do it again."

He opened his mouth to speak more, but he was cut off: Pete had leaned in and kissed him, cupping the younger man's face and pulling him in.

"You have no idea how much I fucking want you," Pete growled, against Mikey's lips.

"Show me, then," Mikey demanded, breaking away from the kiss ever so slightly and looking Pete in his eyes. "Show me how much you want me."

Pete leaned in and attacked Mikey's mouth with his own, wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man and holding him as if he were the only thing worth holding onto. Mikey broke away for a moment, brushing Pete's bangs out of his face softly.

"I fucking love those big doe eyes of yours," He growled, mixing in a surprising amount of tenderness. He caressed the side of Pete's face ever so gently, as if he were touching something precious like glass or satin. Pete leaned into the touch willingly, feeling an odd sort of comfort in the feeling.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

For a moment, Pete felt as if his heart was about to explode. As soon as he looked into Mikey's eyes, it was as if there was nobody else in the world: just him and Mikey, there in each other's company.

In such an impromptu, steamy moment, he never would've expected to feel so loved.

He thought about that as he leaned in for another deep, passionate kiss.


	27. Alone Together

The night didn't go exactly how Pete had planned. He realized this as he listened to the gentle hum of the radio in the My Chemical Romance tour bus, his back pressed against the back of the sofa, Mikey straddled over him. The ambiance of the dim lamp-lights around him cast shadows all over the poster-covered walls of the bus. Other than the soft hum of music playing from a radio on the coffee table, the only sounds that could be heard were the sound of two pairs of lips meeting each other passionately and the occasional heavy breath.

Pete's hands ran across Mikey's back and gripped tightly at his shirt, ever-so-delicately pulling him in closer. Mikey pulled away for a moment, confidently smirking at the object of his affections, before burying his face into the crook of his neck.

"Fuck," Pete moaned softly, as Mikey's lips softly grazed his skin. "Mikey—"

"Shh," Mikey whispered into Pete's ear seductively. "It's okay. Just let this happen."

Mikey continued to kiss Pete's neck, slowly migrating from the side of his neck to his throat. Pete looked up slightly and Mikey used that opportunity to plant a few kisses on Pete's throat softly. An odd shiver ran down Pete's back as he felt the younger man's lips trace the notch at the bottom of his throat, above the center of his collarbones. Mikey sat up straight, breaking away from Pete for a moment.

"Shirt off," Mikey demanded, gripping at the bottom hem of Pete's shirt and beginning to tug upwards. Without thinking too much, Pete complied, peeling off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. Mikey did the same.

Mikey took a moment to look over Pete's body, feasting his eyes on all the tattoos he's never seen before. He let his fingers trail across the ink on Pete's skin delicately, carving out a moment to admire the art for its intricacy and detail.

"What're you doing?" Pete asked.

"Getting a good look. I've never seen these ones in person." Mikey grinned softly as he trailed his fingers across Pete's right arm softly. He admired the Nightmare Before Christmas-themed sleeve lovingly, an uncontrollable grin growing across his face as he did. He slowly looked back into Pete's eyes for a moment before leaning in and planting another, softer kiss on his lips. He broke away after a moment, a heavy blush rising to his face. He remained close: only a lips' distance away from Pete.

"Mikey, you're shaking," Pete breathed, looking up into Mikey's eyes solemnly. Mikey took a moment to regulate his breathing, laughing at how nervous he was.

"Don't worry about that," he smiled, running his hands through Pete's hair softly. "You just sit tight and let me show you how much I want you, okay?" 

"What are you—"

"Shh." Mikey put a finger up to Pete's mouth and eased away from him slowly, leaning down and planting a few kisses on his collarbones. "Just let me do this."

He got off of Pete, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of him.

"Fuck," Pete moaned softly, as he realized exactly what was about to happen.

"I like this one," Mikey purred, leaning in and planting his lips onto the bat-heart logo tattooed on the top of Pete's pelvis. "I can't wait to see what's right underneath it."

As Mikey fumbled with Pete's belt and zipper, a horrendously uncomfortable feeling crashed over Pete. Suddenly, his head was clearing up: he wasn't trapped in a haze of sexual attraction and the illusion of being loved. He realized that, if he let Mikey continue, nothing would ever be the same. It didn't matter that Mikey was of age: he was still just a horny kid who didn't know anything about love and was trying to fill the void with sex. There was no way letting him continue would be ethical, and Pete knew it.

"Mikey—"

"Shh," Mikey hushed, beginning to tug Pete's jeans down over his hips. "It's okay."

"Mikey, stop." Pete pushed Mikey away gently. "I'm sorry, this was a huge mistake."

"What?" Mikey sat up, a confused and concerned look on his face. "Wait, why? Is something wrong? Is it because I've never done this before? Because I think I can figure it out—"

"No," Pete sighed, zipping up his pants and re-fastening his belt. "Mikey, this isn't right. I'm sorry."

"If this is about the feud, it shouldn't matter!" Mikey argued. "I told you, nobody's gonna find out. It's just you and I tonight, and I know we both want this."

"This isn't about that." Pete grabbed the shirts from the ground and put one back on, handing the other to Mikey. "Here, put that on. And for the record, you don't know what you want. Believe me, I remember being seventeen—"

"Eighteen," Mikey corrected sternly, putting the shirt back on reluctantly. "Pete, if that's what this is about, I'm legal. It's okay."

"That doesn't matter!" Pete exclaimed, brushing Mikey off. "I don't care that the law says you're an adult, you're not! I know you think everything's different now that you're eighteen, but it's not! You're still a kid and I'm not gonna take advantage of you."

"You wouldn't be taking advantage of me," Mikey argued. "This is different. I'm not just looking for a quick fuck: Pete, I love you." 

"No," Pete winced. "No, you don't. I know what it's like to be a teenager. I know that void you feel, and I know you're trying to fill it with sex that you're telling yourself is love. It's meaningless."

"Wh—" Mikey was speechless. "What— how the fuck can you call my love meaningless?" 

"Because you don't really love me." Pete stood up from the bed, afraid to look Mikey in the eyes. "It's hard for you to hear that, but trust me, it's true."

"You don't know how I feel," Mikey spat, standing up as well.

"Neither do you."

"You have no way of knowing if this is real for me or not!" Mikey was gradually becoming more agitated. 

"Oh?" Pete asked. "Alright then. Can you imagine us having a future together? Realistically?"

"Uh..." Mikey had been backed into a corner. "...Well, I'm sure we could work it all out—"

"How?" Pete asked. "Tell me: what things need to change before this becomes okay?"

"I don't know," Mikey admitted. "But why can't I take a shot in the dark?"

"Because relationships based on shots in the dark aren't meant to last." 

"Well, we can make our own future," Mikey ventured. "If things haven't changed soon, we can leave everything behind and start a new life together!"

"Mikey, that's crazy."

"No, it's daring!" Mikey exclaimed, with a soft laugh. "If anyone can make a crazy idea work by being daring, it's you and me."

"What makes you think we're any different from the people all around us who lost everything 'cause they were trying to be 'daring?'"

"Because I love you, and I know you love me." Mikey smiled softly. "I mean, you haven't said it to me, but you don't have to. I know what you and I have is real."

"Mikey, that's—"

"That's what? Insane?" Mikey guessed, inching closer to Pete. "You're absolutely right! Isn't that what love is all about, though?"

"There's your problem!" Pete shouted, pushing Mikey away from him gently. "You're so desperate to fall in love, you don't even fucking care about yourself!"

"Why should I?" Mikey was starting to blush. "It's not like I'm someone who matters much anyway! I know I really don't deserve you, but if I can make you happy, that's enough for me. It's that simple!"

"What the fuck do you mean you don't matter?" Pete was growing more angry by the second. "And why are you treating me like I'm some higher being you need to appease? Is that all I am to you?"

"I don't like who I am when I'm not with you," Mikey blurted. "It's like you give me a new sense of purpose. It's not a bad thing."

"I'm this fucking close to punching you right in your fucking face," Pete threatened.

"What?" Mikey's expression shifted from pleased to shocked in a split second.

"Mikey, don't stand there and lie to yourself!" Pete was shouting. "Out of all that crazy shit you just said, one thing was true: you don't deserve me. You deserve to love someone else: someone who'll make you realize that you're worth every star in the fucking sky. You deserve someone who'll bend over backwards for you, or climb mountains, or swim oceans, or even just say they love you without being afraid of what other people will think! You deserve way fucking better than me!"

"I—"

"Shut up!" Pete barked. "Mikey, you're the most remarkable person I've ever met in my fucking life, and don't fight with me on that! Right now, you're young and lonely and you think that things will never change, but one day, you're gonna find someone who'll make you realize all this bullshit is gonna be worth it in the end. Who'll do all that shit for you: The mountains, the oceans, everything. They're gonna love you, you're gonna love them, and everything will be fucking peachy."

"Why can't that person be you?" Mikey argued. 

"Mikey, stop—"

"No, I wanna know why!" Mikey demanded. "Tell me."

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do!"

"I have my reasons!"

"I feel like I should know them! Spit it out!"

"It's personal!" 

"I promise I can handle it!" 

"Stop prying!" 

"Pete! Tell me!" Mikey looked at him sternly. "Say it!"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt!" Pete screamed. "Look at me! I'm crazy, I'm broken, I'm unstable, and I can't even get close to something without ruining it! I'm not functional without every fucking prescribed pill in the book in my veins! I'm trying to be better, but I none of the changes I've made are helping!"

"You can find new ways around it all!" Mikey suggested, his voice breaking as he heard the weakness in Pete's voice. "There's gotta be more things you can try to do to feel better. You're not hopeless!"

"Oh really," Pete scoffed. "What other ways are there? A new pill? Another doctor? Take one look at me and tell me you genuinely believe I'm gonna make it to my twenty-eighth birthday! I don't want you betting your heart on someone who's got one foot in the fucking grave!" 

The silence in the room was deafening and the tension could have been cut with a knife. Neither of them knew what to say: Pete didn't want to spill any more secrets, and Mikey didn't want Pete to notice that he was racking his brain for a single word to say that wouldn't ruin it all.

"I should go," Pete sighed, grabbing the jacket he'd brought with him and putting it on quickly before turning to walk out.

"Wait!" Mikey grabbed Pete's wrist and head him back. "Pete, please stay!"

"Mikey, I can't."

"I'm begging you," Mikey pleaded, his eyes wide and full of unspoken thoughts. "Please, I... I want you to stay. I need you to stay. I'm not gonna try and do anything else to you, I promise. I just... I... I don't want you to be alone tonight. I don't wanna be alone tonight. Please, stay."

"I know you think being alone together is gonna help us, but we're just gonna hurt each other." Pete pried his hand from Mikey's grip. "I know I've said this before, but Mikey, this is goodbye."

"Don't walk away from me." Mikey tried one last time to get Pete to see his side, his voice breaking as he did. "Please."

"I'm doing this to help you." Pete promised, though it was getting harder and harder to leave. "Mikey, I'm not gonna let you get hurt anymore. You deserve the world, and I need to get out of your way and let you realize that."

He made eye contact with Mikey one more time, then turned and opened up the door of the bus.

"Pete! Come back!" 

"Mikey, no!" Pete turned back to look at Mikey. "There's nothing you can say that'll make me change my mind about this. We can't keep meeting in secret and expecting it all to work itself out!"

"No!" Mikey pointed to a spot behind Pete, making Pete suddenly terrified to turn around. Pete turned quickly, only to face down the single most terrifying sight he'd ever seen: he was face to face with Gerard, who looked like he was about fifteen seconds away from murdering him. Ray, Frank, Andy, Joe, and Patrick stood behind Gerard, all staring silently, jaws practically on the floor.

The secret was out.


	28. Lucky

"Pete, is that you?" Andy exclaimed, his jaw practically on the floor out of shock. "What were you doing in there?"

Pete began to feel lightheaded—he'd always imagined seeing his life flash before his eyes the moment before he was going to die, but for some reason, he couldn't see any of it. Something was deathly wrong.

"Pete, Mikey," Gerard spoke softly, but his voice was ominous. "What's going on here?"

Pete gulped nervously and opened his mouth to speak, but had no idea of what he was going to say. Pretty much anything he could've said would get him in more trouble and he knew it.

"Gerard, I can explain." Mikey handled the situation delicately, as if he were a bomb defuser handling a bomb that was ten seconds away from exploding. 

"What?" Gerard spat, angrily. "You'd better do it quick, then, cause something happened here, and if it was what I think it was, we're gonna have some fucking problems."

There was a damning silence that followed Gerard's rage-filled comment.

"I know this looks bad," Mikey stepped up to the plate courageously. "But I promise I can explain it all—"

"Oh my fucking god," Gerard exhaled, a burst of white hot rage enveloping him. "Mikey, what did he do to you?"

"Gerard, nothing happened, I pr—" Pete stammered.

"Shut up!" Gerard didn't let Pete finish his sentence: instead, he lunged at him aggressively, pinning him against the side of the bus roughly. "What the FUCK did you do to him!?"

"Stop!" Mikey shouted, rushing over to Pete's aid. Patrick, Joe and Andy ran to Pete's side while Ray and Frank rushed over to try and pry Gerard away.

"Gerard, I know this is bad, but you can't do this!" Ray reasoned, pulling Gerard off of Pete. Pete was left leaning on the side of the bus, trembling violently and struggling to stay standing.

"Are you okay?" Mikey asked frantically, standing close to Pete.

"Yeah," Pete exhaled nervously, looking up at Mikey for a moment. "I am."

"Get away from him!" Gerard snapped, attempting to lunge at Pete once again.

"Gee, please stop!" Frank pleaded, holding Gerard back. "Remember What you told me about being aggressive like this? You need to work this out rationally."

Gerard took a deep breath and lowered his voice to a regular speaking volume.

"Mikey, Pete." His voice was trembling with rage, but he was trying to keep it down as quiet as he possibly could. "I need to speak to both of you. Alone."

"He's not going anywhere without us," Patrick chimed in, marching to Pete's side. Joe and Andy followed suit.

"We're coming too." Ray stepped in closer to Gerard, grabbing Frank by the arm and pulling him in closer.

"Oh god," Frank groaned. "This isn't gonna end well."

"No shit." Joe rolled his eyes.

"Okay then," Gerard exhaled his rage. "If you're all so adamant about tagging along, you can. I thought this was about Pete and Mikey, but I guess this involves everyone now."

"Oh really?" Mikey sassed courageously. "It involves everyone?"

"Don't you dare try and turn this around on us!" Gerard pointed a finger at Mikey angrily. "You don't get to talk right now!"

"Nothing happened!" Pete defended, finally regaining enough nerve to speak up. "I promise, nothing happened between us."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Gerard shouted at Pete. "Mikey's a child!"

"No I'm not," Mikey replied. "I'm eighteen now! I can do what I want!"

"That doesn't make it any better!" Gerard shouted back. "Any person who'd even think about fucking someone who's not even a day over eighteen is fucking disgusting!"

"He didn't do anything," Mikey stammered. "Please, just listen to me—"

"Mikey, what's that on your shirt?" Frank stepped forward to examine it a little closer. "It looks familiar. Is that... a heart with bat wings?"

Mikey's heart dropped in his chest. He had accidentally put on Pete's shirt in the hustle to get dressed. Gerard stared at the logo for a moment before turning back to Pete.

"That's not one of Mikey's shirts, I know that." Gerard's gaze was one that could burn a hole through someone. "I know my little brother wouldn't wear a shirt with Pete Wentz' tramp stamp on it."

"Tramp stamp?" Pete was somewhat offended. "This is the logo of my clothing line."

"Oh really?" Gerard asked. "What's the name of your line?"

"Clandestine Industries."

After a moment of silence, Gerard began to laugh angrily, causing everyone around him to collectively get chills.

"Okay, now that's funny!" Gerard took a moment to collect himself. "You... you're secretly gunning for my brother—who's barely legal—and your line is called Clandestine? Is that a coincidence? Or do you just have the audacity to hint that you're usually keeping some horrific secrets you don't want other people to know under wraps?"

At the implication Gerard had made, Pete's fear turned to anger. 

"Oh, you've got a lotta nerve making an implication like that—" he started, aggressively.

"He was never gunning for me, I was gunning for him," Mikey defended, before Pete could continue. "Look, I tried to initiate something—which would explain the shirt—but he stopped me before I could push it too far. He wouldn't let me."

Pete looked over at Mikey, half impressed that he was bold enough to tell the truth, half terrified that Gerard wasn't going to believe him.

"Wh—" Gerard was lost for words. "Mikey... You initiated this?"

"Yeah..." Mikey blushed. "I did."

"Holy shit." Gerard had to take a moment to process it all. "Oh my god, you're actually into him... How long has this been going on?"

Mikey hesitated for a moment, looking over at Pete and then back at Gerard.

"Oh come on!" Patrick interjected. "You're all blowing this completely out of proportion! Mikey's had a crush on Pete for a long time now and he tried to act on it! Is that really so bad?"

"Wait, what?" Ray was shocked, along with everyone else. "You knew? How?"

"Mikey told me," Patrick admitted, ashamed that he was about to reveal such a personal secret of someone else's. "When he got drunk and he had to take an ambulance to the hospital, I kept him company. He told me everything... how the two of them had been friends this whole time, and that he'd developed a crush on Pete. I talked to Pete, and he told me he'd let him down easy."

Mikey blushed furiously and averted eye contact with everyone else.

"Fuck," Joe swore under his breath as he watched the confrontation go down.

"You knew this whole time and didn't say anything?" Gerard turned to face Patrick.

"Why the fuck would I say anything?" Patrick shot back. "Look around! There's nothing here but hate and bitterness! It's like if we say anything, we're only adding fuel to this dumbass feud! And I don't think a teen crush is anything worth ruining a whole tour over!"

"Oh, this is far beyond a crush!" Gerard shouted. "This? This is wrong on every conceivable level!"

"Oh, now you wanna judge what kind of relationships are right and wrong?" Mikey sassed. "Well, isn't that fucking ironic?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked.

"Mikey, you'd better shut the fuck up," Gerard warned, through gritted teeth.

Pete, Patrick, Andy, and Joe watched the argument, turning their heads back and forth as if they were watching a tennis match.

"Oh please!" Mikey scoffed. "You don't get to talk to me about love when you don't even fucking love your own boyfriend!"

A loud, collective gasp could be heard after that.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Frank asked. "Gerard loves me!"

"Open your goddamn eyes!" Mikey shouted. "How can Gerard possibly love you when he's not even gay?"

"But Gerard is gay," Joe pointed out, confusedly. "He said it directly to us, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Andy replied. "He did that whole speech and everything."

"Yeah, I did." Gerard had begun to nervously sweat. "Mikey, you're lying. Shame on you."

"Shame on me?" Mikey snapped. "Really? Why don't you tell Frank about your secret girlfriend? What's her name? Lindsey? Yeah, I've heard the phone conversations!"

"Gee, what's he talking about?" Frank looked apprehensive as he asked Gerard.

"Nothing," Gerard was struggling to keep his composure. "He's just trying to turn the attention away from his problems."

"I may have fallen for someone I had no business falling for," Mikey admitted, bitterly. "But at least I'm not intentionally leading someone on for my own personal gain. Maybe I made a mistake, but at least I'm a decent fucking human being."

Silence.

"Gerard?" Frank asked, wide-eyed and on the verge of breaking down. Gerard looked into Frank's eyes and suddenly, it was impossible for him to continue the lie. He'd lied to him for too long: he couldn't let his best friend continue to live in the dark. As much as he didn't want to, he needed to let him know.

"Frank, he's telling the truth." 

The tension between the two groups had risen to a point where the air felt as if it had grown thick and hard to breathe. Everyone's stomach had dropped and everyone waited on bated breath to see what would happen next.

"I... I'm so sorry—"

"What!?" Frank screamed at the top of his lungs, completely caught off guard. "Wha— So you're telling me that this... this whole time... all of this was fake?"

"Frank, you have to understand—"

"Gerard, I fucking loved you!" Frank had begun to cry through his anger. "I... I thought what we had was true! I... I would've done anything for you! I would've died for you! I... I thought you were the only one who ever really stayed with me! Turns out you're just a filthy fucking liar like everyone else in my goddamn life."

"I never meant for you to actually fall for me!" Gerard was breaking down as well, but remained strong. "That... that just happened on its own... and when you told me you loved me, I... I just couldn't tell you the truth. I was weak and I was a coward. I meant to tell you, but—"

"Fuck you!" Frank spat, violently. "I can't fucking believe you! You let me believe you loved me for so fucking long and... and then you come out and tell me you're straight? And that you've been seeing someone else this whole time? I TRUSTED you!"

"Frank, I do love you," Gerard admitted, tearfully. "Just... not that way. I've always admired you as a person and as a friend, it's just that—"

"Save your fucking breath!" Frank shouted, tears trailing down his face. He exhaled a sob, and suddenly, his voice had lowered to a weak whisper. "Stop it with that bullshit. I'd punch your fucking teeth out if I didn't still love you so much."

"Frank, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry," Gerard apologized empathetically. "You don't deserve this. You—"

"Over a stupid fucking feud, too!" Frank frantically wiped tears from his face. "Does it really mean that fucking much to you? Might as well tell them all that you're the one who wrote 'faggots' on our bus, then."

"What the fuck!?" Patrick asked. "You wrote that on your own bus?"

"Oh yeah!" Frank admitted, almost proud that he was about to expose Gerard's plan. "He did it so we'd have something to blackmail you with! I mean, it was my idea to paint some little message to make it look like you pranked us, but it was his idea to write 'faggots' and paint you guys as homophobes. He took my basically harmless idea and turned it into a full-blown hate crime and I fucking went along with it... and for what? A petty feud! To hell with this! I'm done!"

"Frank!" Gerard grabbed Frank's wrist and tried to hold him back.

"Don't touch me, motherfucker!" Frank tore his arm away from Gerard's grip and continued to rush away hastily. Gerard looked around at all the shocked and disgusted faces that were looking at him. He looked over at Ray, expecting some sympathy, but all he received was another hostile glare.

"What the fuck kind of person does something like that?" Ray spat. "Gerard, I've tried to support you and your asinine quest for revenge, but this? I never signed up for this shit. You deliberately hurt someone who loved you. I can't fucking believe you value this feud over over someone who was there for you before anyone else was. Shame on you!"

Ray followed Frank, calling his name and trying to comfort him as best he could. Gerard, meanwhile, was cut completely to the core and left to deal with the rest of the angry people around him.

"You fucking planned all that?" Pete attacked. "What the fuck is your guys' problem with us? What the fuck did we ever do to you?"

"Yeah!" Joe tossed in. "What could we have possibly done to you that could warrant this kind of revenge?"

"Or any of the shitty things you've done to us over the years!" Andy added. "All those fans who's minds you poisoned! All that equipment you ruined! What did we do to deserve that?"

"You stole our fucking shot!" Gerard shouted at the mob around him. "We... we worked so hard to make it big in this industry and you walked in and stole our chance in one fell swoop!"

"Wha—" Patrick struggled to find the words to say. "What are you talking about?"

"You tell me," Gerard growled. "Tell me how you guys got your big break. Go on."

"We played at Lincoln Park Bar in Chicago," Pete explained, somewhat confusedly. "The band that was originally going that night cancelled last minute and we went up in their place. There was a high-end talent scout in the audience, and we got picked."

"That band didn't cancel," Gerard spoke through gritted teeth.

"How would you know?" Pete asked.

"Because that band was My Chemical Romance!" Gerard fired back. "You have no fucking clue how hard it is to get a gig at Lincoln Park Bar, do you? We had to beg for a spot on that stage for weeks, and when a spot finally opened up, we were doing another show across the state that same day. We packed up as fast as we could and took a train over, but when we got there, you were in the spotlight that we worked so hard and paid so much money to get to!"

"What?!" Pete exclaimed. "That's what all this was about?! This whole time, you were bitter that we got picked instead of you?"

"You have to see it from my point of view," He pleaded. "We had to pay for you guys to take our place! You were four well-off guys who waltzed in without even thinking twice! We were five broke-as-hell runaways who grew up in the slums of Jersey who needed that gig to keep on going! That night, you guys collected the revenue, were instantly launched into stardom and riches, and everyone saw you as heroes. We had to pay for that set, lighting, equipment, and even the time you spent on that stage all because we missed our shot by a few minutes! We needed that revenue to move on with our career, but we ended up penniless. Our original bass player left the band that night with what was left of our savings and went home. The rest of us? We had nothing."

"I'm really sorry that happened to you, but it wasn't our fault!" Patrick argued. "We had no idea what would happen. We just... got lucky."

"Lucky." Gerard scoffed, pausing thoughtfully.  "Luck is a really subjective thing, you know? 'Lucky' people don't ever seem to understand that for every 'lucky' moment you get, a thousand people before you worked their asses off for it and didn't get any credit."

He paused for a moment.

"It really wasn't your fault, and I understand that now, but for so fucking long, this whole thing tore my mind to shreds." His voice has dropped to a more somber tone. "You have to understand, it does horrible things to you when all you care about is revenge. It... it changes you. It takes you to such dark places. It completely fucks up your head and makes you hate everyone, but not as much as you hate yourself. I could hardly look at myself in the mirror. I felt like a failure. All I could do was drink my problems away, or bury them in hordes of hard drugs. That never helped me, though. My problems would always came back stronger the next day. It was my band that helped me get my life together again. They all supported me and helped me get cleaned up, and in that time, I thought I was over my obsession with revenge. Then, I found out we were gonna tour with you, and my mind went right back to that dark place. I... I wanted to make you pay for the damage you caused to us. It... it didn't even occur to me that it really wasn't your fault, I just remembered hearing your songs on the radio on my worst days and hating you. I wanted to make things right, I really did, but by that time, everything was so fucked up, I didn't have the chance to do it without causing ten more problems."

He sighed sadly.

"I made a lot of mistakes, and all of them came full circle. I let my need for revenge consume me and turn me into a person I didn't like. And I took it out on you."

He looked at Patrick solemnly.

"I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me and I honestly don't think you ever should, but just know that I... I'm sorry."

Patrick, Andy, Joe, and Pete all looked at Gerard, a mix of sympathy and uncertainty in their eyes. They knew Gerard was genuine, but they were all unsure how to continue. Mikey was as well. It was Patrick who eventually stepped up to the plate.

"Over all these years we've known each other," He scolded aggressively. "You've done nothing to us but spit hateful comments, vandalize our equipment, and continuously try and undo our achievements, which, by the way, we earned! You can't seriously believe that we made it this far in the game without working out asses off night and day! You're jealous of us for our instant fame, but you know what? Instant fame is not something you should be jealous of! It's not fucking easy! That shock of instantly going from nobody to superstar is damaging too!"

He took a moment to collect himself.

"We tried to help you out, you know?" He exhaled. "A couple fans of ours told us to listen to you and help you make it big, but when we tried to meet up with you, your crew told us to fuck off without even bothering to mention what the problem was. You let us go through life for years knowing that you hated us without even telling us why. That's what made us hate you! You've acted like we were enemies from day one, and now you expect us to listen to your apology for all the hell you put us through because of something that happened that wasn't even our fault? Go fuck yourself!"

There was another deafening silence.

"C'mon, lets go," Patrick spoke, with an exasperated huff. "It's been a long night. We should leave."

Patrick turned his back to Gerard and Mikey, Joe and Andy following suit.

"Pete!" Patrick called, aggressively. "C'mon!"

The sadness in Mikey's eyes made it hard for Pete to pry himself away, but in lieu of the tension around him, he managed to find a way to turn his back on him and follow his bandmates away, all without any kind of goodbye. Mikey wanted to chase him, but at that point, he knew it would be pointless. All he could do was watch Pete walk away from him, and feel a few tears leak from his eyes as he did.

"Mikey, I—"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Mikey snapped, aggressively yet broken-heartedly storming into the tour bus and shutting the door behind him loudly. All Gerard could do was wallow in his own regrets.

In his lifelong quest for revenge, he had lost everything that was important to him. He was truly alone.


	29. The Price Tag

"One more breakfast before it all goes to shit," Gerard thought to himself, his eyelids drooping and his steps slow and heavy. He kept his mind busy by trying to count down the amount of time it would be before he had to confront his bandmates once again. He tried to savor the moments he had to himself before he would ultimately be the center of the wrong kind of attention once again. Before long, however, he found himself in the fated break room, staring down the one person he was least prepared to see.

Frank was fast asleep on the red couch, surrounded by various empty alcohol bottles and a collection of food wrappers. Gerard noticed that the room had an odd chill to it, which he realized was because the door of the refrigerator had been left open, probably all night. It broke Gerard's heart to see Frank in such a sad place, but it broke his heart even more to know that he himself was the cause of it all. He tiptoed over to the refrigerator softly, being careful not to wake Frank up, and grabbed the one remaining protein bar before closing the door and quietly shuffling back to the front of the room. He was in the clear.

"Morning, Gee!" Donna practically shouted, walking down the hall and into the break room as if nothing was wrong. "How was your night?"

"Shh!" Gerard hushed frantically, gesturing to Frank. "He's still asleep."

"Gerard, you do realize it's after three in the afternoon, right?" Donna raised an eyebrow at her son as she spoke. "I know you boys had a late night last night, but three in the afternoon? God, this place is a mess!"

"Mom, please—"

"Frankie! Up!" Donna clapped loudly as she shouted, stirring Frank from his deep slumber. "There you are! C'mon, you're wasting the day away!"

"Fuck," Gerard swore under his breath as he watched Frank stir awake.

"Ugh." Frank sat up, massaging his aching forehead with the heel of his hand. "Good morning to you too, Donna."

"God, you're a fucking mess!" Donna joked playfully, starting to pick up the trash that had been strewn around. "How hard did you party last night?"

"Too hard." He tossed back, completely emotionless. He looked up, and when he saw Gerard, he stopped cold. He didn't say anything, but rather kept his eyes fixed on him, in an angry glare. Donna noticed the tension, but didn't speak up. Without another word, Frank stood up and left the room, giving Gerard one final hostile glare before disappearing down the hallway.

"Okay," Donna sighed, tossing the first batch of trash into the trash can and looking sternly over at Gerard. "We need to talk. What happened?"

"It—" Gerard exhaled stressfully. "It's complicated."

"Don't wanna talk about it with your mom, huh?" Donna rolled her eyes. "I know you don't think I'm completely on board with you... being attracted to men. I want you to understand that I'd never judge you for who you love—"

"Mom—"

"Okay, I'll admit, finding out that you and Frank were together was a little unexpected, but I've known about your sexuality for a long time now. You're my son and I love you just the way god made you."

"Mom, it's not that." Gerard exhaled fearfully. "It's... it's a lot more complicated than that."

"Tell me about it." Donna pulled out a chair at the wooden table at the edge of the room and sat down, gesturing for Gerard to sit across from her. "Go on. I can take it."

"I'm not sure you can," Gerard admitted shamefully.

"Honey, I was born and raised in the slums of Jersey," she reminded him. "There's not a lot I can't handle."

Gerard looked at her for a moment, contemplating whether or not to tell her what happened. After a moment of thinking, however, he realized that his mother wasn't the type to let up when she wanted information. She was gonna get information one way or another and he preferred she didn't hear it from Mikey.

"Mom," he started, sitting down in the chair across from Donna. "I... I don't really know how to tell you this."

"Just tell me what's on your mind," Donna suggested, reaching her hand out to the middle of the table for Gerard to take. "Go on."

Gerard took his mother's hand delicately and exhaled before speaking again.

"I'm straight."

Donna looked as if she'd seen a train derail and crash right in front of her.

"What?" She asked.

"I'm straight." Gerard admitted again, blushing furiously. "I like women."

"Since when?"

"Since forever." Gerard averted eye contact. "I know that must come as a shock, but it's who I really am."

Donna exhaled her stress as she looked back up at Gerard.

"I see." She narrowed her eyes at Gerard. "And Frank found out about it? Is that what's wrong?"

Gerard nodded shamefully.

"So," Donna pressed on. "If you're straight, why were you with him?"

Gerard gulped nervously.

"It's a long story. Like, really long. but the gist of it is that we have this, erm, ongoing feud with Fall Out boy, and I used him as a pawn." He tried his hardest to not spill the worst details. "I didn't mean for it to become serious, he just fell for me and I... I couldn't say no to him after he told me he loved me. I messed up, and it's all because I... was selfish. It was all my fault."

Donna squeezed Gerard's hand tightly in hers, completely unsure of what to say to him. She was obviously ashamed that he would do something like that to someone who loved him, but she also knew there had to be some way around it. Instead of prying for more answers, she decided to take a different approach.

"How are you gonna fix this?" She asked.

"I need to talk to him," Gerard replied. "But he's in no mood to see me. I'm starting to doubt if he'll ever talk to me again."

"Gerard Arthur Way," Donna scolded. "I'm not gonna bullshit you, what you did to him was completely unethical. He really loved you, you know? He's never really gonna get over this. It'll probably pain him for the rest of his life—"

"What have I done?" Gerard despaired, burying his head in his hands. "I can't believe I did all that to him! H... how could I have let things get this bad?"

"Gerard, listen to me." Donna reached across the table and pushed Gerard's chin up so he was looking at her face. "Now's not the time to mope! You haven't lost him yet. He's been there for you for almost your entire life.  Yeah, you royally fucked up, but you two have always had a special bond. You've worked through tough situations before, and I'm not about to let you sit there and lose someone so important to you. If you go out there and get him to talk to you, then maybe you can start to get this fuckin' train wreck of a friendship back on its tracks."

Gerard let out a nervous breath and sat up straighter.

"Okay," he said, courageously. "I can talk to him."

***

"Frank!" Gerard called, following Frank as he made his way out of his hotel room and into the hallway.

Frank looked back, but when he saw Gerard, he rolled his eyes and began to walk away from him more briskly. He carried a packed shoulder bag and dragged a full suitcase behind him.

"Frank, please, I need to talk to you!" Gerard pleaded. "Come back!"

"Go away," Frank tossed back, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. "I'm done with all of this."

"Where are you going with all the luggage?" Gerard asked.

"We don't have anymore shows, so I'm going home," Frank spat back, fixing his packed bag so the strap rested on his shoulder and lugging his suitcase behind him. "I know we all agreed to spend the day in Chicago, but I just... I need to get away from this. Don't try to change my mind, cause I changed my ticket last night."

"Don't go yet," Gerard begged, his voice weakening. "I need you to stay! I... I'm sorry for everything, I—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Frank screamed at the top of his lungs turning to face Gerard full on, dropping both bags he was carrying. He took a deep, calming breath before speaking again.

"Gerard, people have limits," he stated. "Even I do. You... you pushed me far past that limit and I was willing to let you, but then it turned out that I was doing it all for nothing. What am I supposed to do, just stand by and take more of this so you can get your little revenge fix? Fuck, I can't even look at you right now!"

"Gerard, I think you should leave." Ray stepped forth boldly, coming out of the My Chemical Romance green room and into the hallway. He carried a smaller bag with him—another one of Frank's bags.

"I can't," Gerard breathed. "I can't leave it like this..."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ray spat.

Gerard gulped nervously.

"Frank, I know you're angry," he began. "And you have every right to be. What I did to you was deplorable and you didn't deserve any of it. Please, be angry at me, it's only fair—I... ugh, fuck... Frank, if you never talk to me again, I don't want things to be left up in the air like this. I want you to know that I regret it all!"

His voice was steadily breaking.

"Frank, I want you to know that, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry." His voice dripped with sincerity. "I... I didn't mean for it all to end up like this, but the fact of the matter is, it did. All you did was love and care about me, and I repaid all of that by using you as a pawn in this feud and I leading you on this whole summer. I... I took the connection you and I have had since we were kids and I threw it in the trash. There's nothing I can do that could ever make this right, but I want to let you know that you never deserved any of this... I was stupid and weak and you got caught in the crossfire. I... I'm sorry."

"You've got some nerve—"

"Ray, calm down." Frank placed a hand on Ray's shoulder, holding him back. "It's okay. Do you think you could flag down a taxi and put my stuff in the trunk for me?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Ray assured.

"Yeah," Frank affirmed. "Thanks for helping me... and for sticking up for me."

"It's the least I could do." Ray shot a hostile glare at Gerard before he picked up Frank's luggage and left, once again cutting Gerard to the core. Frank stepped up closer to Gerard, getting a good look at him before speaking again.

"For fuck's sake," he swore. "You're so goddamn hard to read. I never fucking know what to expect from you. And to think: I thought I'd finally figured you out! What an idiot!"

Gerard didn't speak. He stood tall and listened intently to what Frank had to say to him.

"And you know what else?" Frank continued to attack Gerard mercilessly. "You infected all of us! You got so hooked up on your own issues with revenge that you sucked us all into this fucking game! You even got us involved in framing innocent people for a hate crime, for crying out loud!"

Once again, Gerard didn't speak.

"Oh my fucking god," Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You wanna know what hurts me the most? I still love you! I... I can't even understand why I still do, it's just like that! But I'm also so goddamn angry!I... I'm so fucking confused! Why can't I just fucking figure it all out?"

He took a moment to breathe deeply, then looked up at Gerard with tired, sad eyes.

"What happened to the old you?" He looked more exhausted than sad. "You used to look out for me, you know? You used to be the friend I looked up to. You used to care about me. Now? You're nothing but a selfish dick."

Gerard remained silent once more.

"You know, that's the reason I fell for you." Frank was starting to blush. "You cared about me. When we were kids, you were literally the only one who did. Nobody gave two shits about the little Jersey rat from a broken home who barely even had time to care about anything. Nobody except you."

He sighed softly.

"Where'd that Gerard Go?" He asked, bitterly. "Answer me!"

"I'm here," Gerard affirmed. "Frank, I still care. You've always been my best friend and I'm always gonna care about you. Frank, I... I'm really sorry that I did all that to you... I really don't deserve to be friends with someone as incredible as you. I... I never deserved your love."

He stopped and took a nervous breath before he continued to speak.

"Someday, you'll find someone else, and they'll love you back like you deserve," Gerard promised. "Someone out there will love you with their whole heart, but that someone... it's not me."

Frank averted his gaze from Gerard awkwardly and then looked back up at him.

"I'm always gonna love you," Frank admitted, through his pain. "Which is exactly why we need to spend some time apart."

Gerard felt his heart sink as Frank spoke, but he knew he was absolutely right.

"Yeah," he said, softly. "I understand."

"Gerard, I forgive you." Frank stood tall and treated his friend with respect, despite everything he had put him through.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Gerard spoke excitedly. "You really forgive me?"

"Hold on," Frank commanded. "I forgive you, but that doesn't mean that we're friends again. I'm doing this for your sake. Maybe this is the push you need to finally turn yourself around."

"Thank you, Frank," Gerard uttered, gratefully. "I promise, I'm gonna turn it all around! I'm gonna go back to being the Gerard you want me to be! I—"

"Shh." Frank was losing his patience. "Don't tell me, show me. You and I are gonna spend some time apart, and by the time we see each other again, you'd better have turned it all around." 

He paused, looking over at the end of the hallway.

"I have to go." Without looking back at Gerard, he began to walk away.

"Wait!" Gerard called apprehensively, causing Frank to briefly turn back. "Before you go, I... I want you to tell me something. Is our friendship ever gonna go back to the way it was before... all this?"

"No." Frank felt his own heart sink as he spoke and shook his head in response to Gerard's question, but he powered through it and remained honest. "No, it won't."

Gerard was grateful for Frank's honesty, though it tore him apart to hear it.

"Okay," he breathed shakily.

"Goodbye, Gerard."

And with that, Frank walked away without taking a look back. Gerard wondered if it had all gone wrong, or if there was even a tiny glimmer of hope for the future. Either way, he took a deep breath, steadied his voice, and spoke the words that he would want Frank to remember in case the two of them never saw each other again:

"Goodbye, Frank."


	30. Find Me

"Pete, sit."

"What?" Pete's stomach dropped. "What are you guys doing?"

"Just sit," Patrick breathed. "We need to talk to you."

"What is this about?" Pete stammered nervously.

"We have some questions," Joe stated.

Pete gulped nervously. He knew exactly what was going to be asked, but all he could do was do as the others said. He knew that his best chance of getting through it was saying what his friends wanted to hear.

"What is it?" He breathed deeply and sat down on the small tour bus couch, trying to keep a bold composure. "Is this about last night?"

"Yes and no," Patrick ventured carefully. "Uh, well, we don't think you did, but we just need to know..."

"Need to know what?" Pete spat.

"How long have you been fucking Mikey Way?" Joe interrupted boldly. "Pete, how fucking long?"

"Wow," Pete scoffed. "The fact that you would even think to accuse me of—"

"You were in the My Chem tour bus last night!" Andy interjected. "He was wearing your shirt! What were we supposed to believe?"

"Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you're getting yourself into?" Joe spat. "Actually, it's not just you. You're getting all of us into trouble too! You're being so goddamn selfish, Pete!"

"Guys, stop!" Patrick mediated. "Stop fighting! I can't take it anymore!

He took a calming breath as the space momentarily fell silent.

"Pete, just tell us the truth," he continued. "If something did happen—"

"Nothing happened!" Pete pleaded his case. "Mikey and I were never fucking. It turns out that he was into me, and he tried to get something going, but I stopped him."

"You must not have tried that hard to have accidentally switched shirts with him." Joe scoffed, warranting an angry glare and a smack on the shoulder from Andy.

"I may have let things get a little too far," Pete admitted, shamefully. "But it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. I got a little caught up, but I snapped out of it and stopped it from going further."

"Pete, he's a teenager!" Andy reminded aggressively. "What were you thinking?"

"That's exactly my point!" Pete pointed out. "He got a little impulsive and I did too, that's all! When I realized that, it was clear that letting the whole thing continue would be immoral."

"Pete, I told you that he liked you a long time ago," Patrick reminded. "I told you to let him down easy."

"I know," Pete breathed. "I got caught up in the moment."

"We were worried sick about you!" Patrick stepped closer to Pete and sat down on the couch next to him. "We were looking all over for you and you turned out to be in his tour bus."

"Why were you so worried about me?" Pete shouted, aggressively. "You guys know I like to wander at night."

"Someone slashed our tires last night." Joe interrupted. "The police caught the guy and wanted us to try and identify him, but you were gone."

"Who was it?" Pete asked.

"The guy they caught was some drunk guy who probably had nothing better to do," Joe explained. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of the My Chem guys again. If I may, may I suggest my original retaliation plan?"

"Joe, for the fucking last time," Patrick spat. "We are not gonna sink to that level! We're not gonna be known as that band that spitefully filled another band's tour bus with mosquitos!"

"Where would you even get a crate of mosquitos without raising a few suspicions?" Andy asked.

"The internet!" Joe answered, matter-of factly. "That's where everyone buys suspicious shit—"

"We're getting off topic!" Patrick pulled the conversation back to where it had originally started. "Pete, this is bad, but if you're willing to listen to us, we can fix all of this—"

"Guys, stop." Pete stood up from the couch and faced the others boldly. "You're making this a bigger deal than it really is. It was a mistake, yeah, but it's not the end of the world and it's definitely not something I need your help to fix."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Patrick," Pete continued. "You don't have to get sarcastic with me. All I have to do is tell him to forget it all and this whole thing will be over."

"I don't think it's that simple," Patrick added. "Mikey really does like you a lot and I know you've got some kind of attachment to him. Whatever you feel for him, I know that you care."

"Well, of course I care," Pete admitted. "He and I are friends."

"Are you sure you weren't the least bit interested in him like he was with you?" Andy asked.

"Yes," Pete answered defiantly. "He... he just briefly caught me off guard, is all."

It became suspiciously quiet in the bus as a knock was heard at the door.

"I'll get it." He walked over to he door and opened it, his stomach dropping as he realized it was Mikey. "Fuck!"

"Pete, can we talk?" Mikey asked. "Please?"

"Oh, what a surprise," Joe snarled sarcastically. Mikey was surprised to see Joe, Patrick, and Andy, but he didn't let that sway him.

"Mikey, go away." Pete warned.

"I'm just here to say goodbye."

"Calm down, Joe," Andy soothed. "I think Pete should work this out with Mikey. On his own."

"What?" Joe spat.

"Just trust me," Andy whispered softly.

"Pete, go." Patrick said, uneasily. "But remember what I said."

Pete exhaled his fear and closed the door behind him, leaving him some privacy to talk to Mikey one on one. 

"What is it, Mikey?" 

"I just need you to listen," Mikey responded. "I've thought really hard about what you've said, and—"

"Mikey, why are you really here?" Pete asked, somewhat bitterly. "I don't fucking want you here! Can't you see that?"

"I see what you're doing." Mikey was obviously a little hurt, but he understood what Pete meant. "You... you're just trying to push me away cause you're afraid. I understand what you're really trying to say, though."

"Mikey, you need to leave," Pete stated, furrowing his brow seriously. "That's what I'm trying to say. Leave! Go home!"

"Pete, I love you," Mikey poured his heart and soul out for Pete to see. "I really do."

"You don't love me." It was getting a lot harder for Pete to step away from the conversation. "We've talked about this."

"I do love you," Mikey repeated, his voice growing even more vulnerable. "Please don't try to tell me I don't—"

"You should leave," Pete dodged the conversation harshly.

"Pete—"

"Please, leave."

"But I—"

"Leave me alone!"

"Please, just listen to me!"

"Mikey! Enough is enough!" Pete had raised his voice to a low shout. "There's nothing you could say that'd convince me that a relationship between us could work, so stop trying to get to me!"

"Don't push me away," Mikey remained quiet and civilized, despite the looming prediction that he was about to be emotionally crushed. "Please. Just let me tell you what I'm trying to say—"

"You're not understanding!" Pete expressed emotionally. "Mikey, I'm pushing you away because I wanna protect you!"

"Protect me? From what?" Mikey was confused as well as exasperated. "Stop treating me like I'm made of glass! I know how the world works! I know hard times! Whatever gets thrown at me, I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"No," Pete protested. "You're way too young to understand what's going on here. You're eighteen, so you think you know everything by now, but you don't! You're still struggling to find yourself, for fuck's sake!"

He exhaled and took a moment to put some words together in his head before he continued to speak.

"I understand what's happening," he said. "You're attracted to me because I'm dangerous. You're young, you're rebellious, you're starting to realize you might be attracted to guys, and you developed a crush on an older guy that you think is true love. This rivalry only adds to the danger factor."

"But—"

"Mikey, there's no way this relationship can possibly work." Pete spoke with both bluntness and empathy. "We don't have any business being together. The idea might might seem cool and fun at first, but believe me, we're not a pairing that works well. We can't balance each other out like a healthy couple can. Nothing about us says 'healthy.' Nothing. I'm sorry to be blunt, but that's the truth."

Mikey remained silent for a moment, waiting for Pete to stop talking long enough to let him speak.

"Can I speak now?" He asked, bitterly. Pete remained silent, which Mikey interpreted as a yes.

"Pete, I came to tell you goodbye." He spoke bluntly. "Like I've been trying to say, I've thought about this and I understand that this idea of 'us' can't work out. As much as it hurts me to say goodbye to someone I love, I know the only way to prove that I respect you is to give you the space you deserve. I got carried away by my crush and I put you in a compromising place, and I'm sorry about that. I was selfish. I didn't think about how you'd be affected."

"What?" Pete was completely in shock.

"You were right," Mikey shrugged sadly. "About everything. I'm sorry I ever tried to push you into loving me back. I... I guess I didn't think it was too much to ask for you to love me back. I guess it was, huh?"

Pete took a moment to ponder what to say to Mikey next: he considered being bitter and driving Mikey away for good, but after Mikey had proved his maturity and thought over the matter, he felt it would be cruel to be bitter.

"It wasn't too much to ask," He admitted, spilling his heart and soul in return. "We all wanna be loved. We all get caught up in what we think is a 'perfect' life. We all push people away that we really just want to spill our guts to. Mikey, I'm sorry I ever let it get that far. If we'd met five or ten years from now, then I'd like to think that maybe we could've worked out, but right now? We don't."

Mikey allowed himself a small smile as he heard Pete speak from his heart. It was something he missed.

"That's all I needed to hear." He beamed. "Thank you."

Pete was suddenly trapped— he knew that Mikey was in an uncomfortable and sad moment and he wanted to comfort him, but he knew that doing so would be prolonging an already heartbreaking goodbye. Despite every bone in his body telling him to break away, He stayed with Mikey and savored the few sweet moments before the inevitable bitter goodbye he'd have to say.

"Don't give up on yourself," Pete said, comfortingly. "One day, you're gonna fall in love and I promise, it'll be with someone who compliments you perfectly. Everything will work out; maybe not exactly like you expect it to, but I promise you, you're still gonna end up perfectly happy. You're an amazing person and anyone who looks at you will tell you that you've got a bright future ahead of you. You can't let this discourage you; you deserve to be loved. You deserve someone who'll stabilize you and build you up and make you happy. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

Mikey felt his heart drop as he saw the look of sadness start to creep over Pete's face. He reached out a hand and caressed his face softly, which he leaned into gently, his calm sadness only piercing deeper into Mikey's heart. 

"Pete, can I ask you something?" Mikey spoke once more, quietly whispering to try and cover up his breaking voice. "You said that maybe if we'd met five or ten years from now, we could've worked. What if we were to wait and see what happens then?"

"Mikey—"

"Before you ask, I'm not gonna ask you to put your life on hold for me." Mikey's eyes were still glossed over with tears, but it also seemed as if a sudden wave of optimism had crashed over him. He drew his hand away from Pete, but still stayed close. "All I'm suggesting is that, in five or ten years, if things haven't worked out for us, maybe we could come and find each other again. That's it."

Pete took a moment to mull over the idea: it didn't seem like a bad one to him, but another part of his brain worried about what the future held and how a relationship pact would possibly affect both his and Mikey's lives. He tried to weigh the pros and cons quickly, but Mikey's pleading eyes didn't necessarily help him find reasons to call it off.

He knew that he'd always be a huge part of Mikey's life, whether or not he ever saw him again. Nothing would ever change what had been built up over the eventful summer of 2005. It frightened him to know that, if things didn't work out in the end, the heartbreak both parties felt could never be erased.

"Shit," he swore softly, shedding a single tear and looking up at Mikey. "Mikey, why'd you do this to me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Mikey tossed back, with as much sass as he could muster up despite being emotionally compromised. "C'mon. Five years is a long time. Maybe by then, we'll be stable enough. Maybe we'll fall back in love; maybe with each other, maybe with other people. I don't know. Either way, I think we deserve a fighting chance. What do you say?"

"What if I find someone else?" Pete asked. "Or what if you find someone else? Before the five-year mark?"

"Then we'll both know we weren't meant to be," Mikey smiled softly through his pain. "I don't know what my future holds: maybe you're in it, maybe you're not. All I know is that I'll always have a place in your heart and you'll always have a place in mine, and that's all I really need to know."

Pete was left practically speechless as he heard what Mikey had told him and how much he really did understand. What Mikey had said was fair and rational, and Pete couldn't find a reason to disagree. He was right: the two of them would always have a place in their heart for each other, no matter what happened or who else would come between them.

"You're serious about this, huh?" He asked, sternly. Mikey nodded in response.

"Five years?" He asked. Pete paused for a moment before he looked at Mikey again, this time with a soft smile.

"Five years."

Mikey's smile turned from a soft one to a bright, happy one as he heard Pete agree to his suggestion. Even in such a sad setting, the two of them found it in themselves to make each other smile genuinely. Though everything was up in the air, as they looked at each other, there was an air of hope.

"Alright." Mikey exhaled his sadness and looked back at Pete, not knowing exactly what to say to him.

"You know, we're gonna have to be apart until then," Pete reminded, adding a melancholic hint of truth to the mix once again.

"Yeah," Mikey sighed sadly. "It's gonna be a long five years, but knowing there's some chance that you and I are gonna meet up again at the end, it's a timespan I'm willing to wait."

He paused for a moment, in thought.

"Come and find me." Mikey remained vague. "After five years, if we're gonna meet, let's meet under a blue sky."

"Sounds great." Pete's eyes were once again starting to tear up as he realized he was about to say what might have been his last goodbye to Mikey. "Yeah, it really does."

The two of them took one more moment to look at each other, neither of them wanting to say the dreaded next words, but both of them knowing that saying anything else would be prolonging the inevitable.

"Well," Mikey finally spoke up, his voice quivering despite trying to look happy. "I... I guess this is... this is..."

"Goodbye?" Pete finished Mikey's sentence.

"Yeah," Mikey spoke softly, his smile fading slowly. "Yeah, I guess... I guess this is goodbye."

His voice broke as he said 'goodbye,' and a tear trailed down his face, but he remained strong and kept a calm composure. Pete was doing the same, despite also being saddened by the circumstances. None of it was fair, but that wasn't something either of them were willing to say out loud.

"I'll miss you," Mikey whimpered softly.

"Don't," Pete responded, with just enough bluntness to get his point across without seeming bitter. "You're only making this harder."

Mikey understood what Pete was trying to say, and smiled softly in response.

"As crazy as it sounds, this summer was actually pretty amazing." He smiled softly and leaned in to surprise Pete with a gentle and loving kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for everything. I'll never forget you."

Without another word, Mikey stood up and swiftly walked away. He let tears trail down his face, but he didn't allow himself to cry loudly: he was waiting to get out of Pete's earshot before he did so. The last thing he ever wanted was to say goodbye to him, but he found a little bit of happiness knowing that there was a little sliver of hope for a reunion in the future.

Pete, meanwhile, stood still and watched Mikey leave, softly caressing the spot on his cheek where he had just been kissed. He felt like crying too, but he didn't. Just like Mikey, he didn't want to say goodbye, yet he knew that it was what needed to be said.

Pete waited for Mikey to turn and look back, but to his surprise, he never did.

The end.


	31. A New Point Of View (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a special surprise for Petekey Day! 
> 
> I'm really sad to announce, however, that these are the last blues we're ever gonna have (sorry). This epilogue marks the end of a year-long journey, and as sad as I am to announce it, the BAID chapter of my life has officially come to a close.
> 
> Thank you guys for everything you've done for this story. I'm truly grateful to have impacted so many people. It's an honor to have written a story that people love.
> 
> Again, thank you for staying with this story up to the last bit. It makes me want to cry happy tears...
> 
> Okay fine I'm sad as hell that this whole thing is ending... I'm gonna need some time to process that it's over.
> 
> I don't know what the future holds, but new things will come in time, I promise. Please don't give up on me.
> 
> Love, Cas.
> 
> "I am staring at the most beautiful creature on the planet. He has no idea. He is so perfect. It feels like I made him up. I cry into his coat. He has a spot over his eye like dogs from 80s movies. I will always remember the night I met you." — Pete Wentz (August 17, 2006)

May 2008

A cramped space in the back hallway of a concert venue in Austin. Pete would always remember that as the place where his life had been changed for the better. He couldn't help but be drawn back to the memories as he stared up at the ceiling of his room, gathering up his blankets and bundling up. The sun was starting to rise up, filling the room with a soft golden glow. Even the beauty of the sunlight covering the walls of his room couldn't mask the fact that he was dreadfully unfulfilled.

Mikey had gotten married a little over a year before. Pete knew he had to move on, but he couldn't help but feel worried about his own future.

The one sound that could be heard right then was that of soft shallow breaths; they came from the woman next to him as she slept soundly, her eyes softly closed and her head resting on Pete's chest. As nice as it felt to be wrapped up in a warm embrace, it simply didn't feel right to him to keep the charade going any longer than it had already gone on. As soon as she woke up, it was time to tell her that it was over.

That moment, it turned out, would come much sooner than Pete could've anticipated. As soon as he had thought about it, she had softly stirred awake and was looking up at him with half-closed, sleepy eyes.

"Morning," she muttered softly, her voice husky with sleep.

"Hey Ash," Pete responded delicately, running a hand through her hair softly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," she responded. "I'm still feeling a little nauseous, though."

"Still not feeling well, huh?" Pete asked. "It's been close to a week now. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Ashlee brushed off nonchalantly. "My symptoms went way down yesterday. This flu is on its last legs, I promise. I'm gonna be good for tonight."

"Tonight?" Pete asked. "Forgive me for being that stereotypical unobservant boyfriend, but what exactly is happening tonight?"

"Ugh," Ashlee rolled her eyes playfully. "Only you could make that sentence charming, Wentz."

She sighed softly and sat up, taking a moment to stretch and yawn.

"Its the Simpson family game night," she reminded. "We do it once every couple weeks, remember?"

"Oh yeah?" Pete asked, sitting up with her and chuckling softly. "That Simpson family game night where your parents are always so thrilled to see me?"

"C'mon, sweetie," Ashlee giggled back. "It's not that they don't like you, it's that they've always been pretty strict about the 'family' aspect. My sister and I were never allowed to bring boyfriends along. However, I think you'll be happy to know that there's been an interesting little twist in the story."

"A twist?" Pete inquired.

"Well," Ashlee grinned. "Now that you and I have been together for enough time and my parents have gotten to know you, they told me they really like you. They told me they'd love for you to come along tonight, and they weren't just bluffing. It's like... it's like you're part of the family now."

Pete's stomach dropped as he heard her say that. His heart started beating faster as he realized that it was time to tell her it was over.

"Pete, sweetie," Ashlee leaned in a little closer to Pete, a concerned look on her face. "Is everything okay? You look troubled."

Pete stopped and stared into her eyes for a moment, just taking in the fact that he was about to end such a personal relationship.

"Ash," he started, taking a moment to stall. "We need to talk. It's actually really serious—"

"Pete, you're not saying—"

"Ash, please," Pete begged. "Just listen to me—"

"Shit." Ashlee's voice was weakening. "Shit!"

"Ash, please don't cry," Pete tried to reason. "It's not your fault, I just—"

"No, it is my fault," Ashlee was beginning to tear up. "I... I should've worked harder to make this work... Pete, please don't be mad. I didn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you."

"What?"

"Tonight at game night." She tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I... I wanted to surprise you. Make a big deal out of it all, like in those adorable videos I've been seeing on the internet."

She began to sob softly, much to Pete's dismay and confusion. It was breaking his heart to see her like this, but he knew he had to press on.

"How did you find out?" Ashlee asked, somewhat angrily.

"Ash, what are you talking about?" Pete asked.

"What, did you look through my trash or something?" She spat, through her tears. "Did you answer a phone call from my doctor? Did you notice that I haven't asked you to buy me tampons for awhile now? Am I already gaining weight? What gave it away?"

In that moment, Pete could have sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The room had an eerie silence—one that can only happen when one's world shatters to pieces in front of him. His stomach dropped and he gasped as soon as the reality of the situation hit him. He wasn't in a dream; he'd just had the biggest news of his life dropped on him at precisely the most inopportune time.

"Oh my god!" Pete's eyes widened and he covered his agape mouth with his hand as he spoke. "Ashlee, you... you're—"

"Pregnant, yes!" Ashlee turned to face Pete full on. "Stop acting like you're shocked, you don't have to do that to spare my feelings."

"No!" Pete leaned in and took Ashlee's hands softly in his. "Ash, I had no idea, I swear! This... This is big news! Ash, I... I can't believe this! I'm... I'm gonna be a dad..."

"Pete, wait," Ashlee was desperately confused. "If you didn't know about the baby, what was it that you were trying to talk to me about?"

Once again, Pete felt his stomach drop. He knew he couldn't possibly leave after what he'd discovered, but he also couldn't ever tell Ashlee he'd ever planned on it. Now that he was going to be a father, he suddenly saw a bigger, much more important purpose in his life: he looked at Ashlee, and suddenly, she was so much more than a woman. As he looked into her eyes, he realized that she was his future. When his head was fully clear, gulped back his emotions, and went with his instincts.

"I was just gonna tell you that I'm ready to take our relationship to the next level."

"Wha—"

"If you don't mind," he started, sinking down to one knee and taking Ashlee's hand softly, causing her to gasp happily. "I have a little question to ask you."

"Oh my god!" She shouted, with joy. "Oh my god!"

"Ashlee Nicolle Simpson, will you marry me?"

May 2010

"Hello and welcome to another episode of Music Insider! As always, I'm Nicole Wilson—"

"And I'm Brett Henderson."

"And boy, do we have a lineup of music news ready for you all tonight!" 

"Mikey!" Alicia called, from the kitchen. "What the hell are you watching?"

"Oh, uh..." Mikey racked his brain for an excuse for watching such a trashy show. "It's just on. There's nothing else on right now."

"Sure, Mikey." Alicia rolled her eyes playfully and softly snickered to herself. "I know you definitely don't like this show."

"Exactly," Mikey smiled softly over at her. "At least you understand me."

She returned the smile with a soft giggle before she made her way to the living room. She sat on the couch right next to Mikey, cuddled close to him, and planted a soft kiss on his mouth, which he returned warmly.

"What was that for?" Mikey asked, as Alicia pulled away from him.

"I love you," She replied, simply.

"I love you too." Mikey wrapped an arm around Alicia and she rested her head on his shoulder to watch TV. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked the show as much as he did.

"Hey!" She shouted. "They're talking about you!"

"What?" Mikey turned up the volume and listened in attentively.

"—Remember those four cute boys from Jersey?" Nicole beamed, smiling far too wide for it to be natural. "Well, be prepared to see them come back again, and this time, with a pop! That's right, as you can see by the picture we're about to show, the band has undergone some major changes to their style and if that's any indication of their new sound, then sign! Me! Up!"

"Calm down, Nicole," Brett over-dramatically soothed. "You're getting ahead of yourself!"

"You're right," Nicole sighed, calming herself. "Anyways, their new album, titled 'Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys,' is set to drop in November. That's seven long, long months, but I for one believe it's gonna be worth it."

"In more recent music news, former Fall Out Boy bassist Pete Wentz celebrates his second anniversary with wife Ashlee Simpson-Wentz!" Brett segued into the second topic quickly. "Earlier this week, the happy couple were seen celebrating their big day by strolling through the park, their adorable young son Bronx Mowgli Wentz in tow."

"Aww!" Nicole gushed dramatically. "Now, if that doesn't melt your heart, I don't know what will! It's the classic story of famous girl crushes on famous boy, famous boy likes her back, and and the two live happily ever after! It's a story for the ages!"

"I gotta say, I've really missed Fall Out Boy since they've broken up," Brett added on. "And I'm not the only ones. fans all around the globe are devastated by the news, and can only pray that one day, the pop-punk band will make a triumphant return."

"I'm just happy My Chem is still together!" Nicole took a deep breath. "I simply can't imagine what would become of me if that band were to break up!"

"Speaking of My Chem," Brett added on. "Frontman Gerard Way and wife Lindsey Way are said to be celebrating young daughter Bandit Way's first birthday a little less than a week from now."

"And what a momentous occasion that is!" Nicole added. "Happy birthday to young Bandit, and best wishes to Gerard and Lindsey!"

"Well, that's all for now," Brett segued. "But stay tuned! After the break, we're gonna talk about Eminem's upcoming album Recovery, which is said to be a completely new chapter in the rapper's life."

"Wow," Alicia laughed, intertwining Mikey's fingers in her own. "What a boring episode, huh?"

"Yeah," Mikey agreed.

"Mikey, I hate to leave during such an important show, but I need to go grocery shopping." Alicia looked up at Mikey. "I have an idea of what I could make for dinner, but I need to pick up a few things—"

"I'll go," Mikey offered, before Alicia could stop him. "You're making dinner tonight, the least I can do is grab the ingredients for you."

"Really, Mikey?" Alicia blushed. "That's so sweet of you. If you really mean it, I'll grab you my list."

"I'll be back in a flash."

***

"Bronx, please sit still," Pete spoke softly to Bronx, who was seated in the child's seat of a grocery cart. "Bronx! We're only here to pick up a few things, Okay?"

"Okay," Bronx parroted back, taking a moment to get settled before sitting still. Pete smiled in response.

"Good," he said. "Thank you."

He strolled through the aisles, making simple conversation with Bronx while picking up food from the shelves. After a little while, he began to think about how much his life had changed in just a few short years. He was lost in thought for a moment, but was pulled back into reality as he heard a loud clash. He turned to see what had happened, only to find that another guy had dropped a can of peas on the ground.

"Sorry," the man said, picking up the can of peas and placing it back into his handbasket. "I didn't mean to scare the kid."

"No trouble," Pete responded, only to laugh as he realized who it was he was talking to. "Mikey?"

"What?" Mikey looked up from his basket and smiled brightly when he saw that he'd run into Pete again. "Oh my god!"

"How long's it been now?" Pete asked. "Four years?"

"Five, actually." Mikey paled as he realized that the five-year pact had ended, and he hadn't even realized it. If he was being honest with himself, he'd completely forgotten about it. 

"Huh. Five years."

"Yeah." 

Both of them remained silent, neither of them willing to bring up what they were obviously both thinking about.

"Is this your son?" Mikey asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Yeah," Pete grinned proudly, stepping aside to let Mikey get a clear look at Bronx. "His name's Bronx."

"Who's that?" Bronx slurred his words as he spoke.

"This is Mikey. He's..." Pete hesitated for a moment. "... he's an old friend of mine. Say hi, Bronx!"

"Hi, Bronx," Bronx parroted, causing Mikey to chuckle softly.

"I taught him that," Pete beamed.

"He's adorable." Mikey took a moment to look back and forth between Pete and Bronx. "He looks like you."

"Thank you," Pete smiled. "Means a lot."

Neither of them spoke up for a moment or two. Again, neither one wanted to bring up the elephant in the room.

"Well," Mikey broke the silence. "It was great to see you again, but I should probably get home to the wife."

"Congratulations on getting married," Pete blushed. "I wanted to tell you that years ago, but—"

"I know," Mikey interrupted. "I did too."

Another pause.

"You look happier," Mikey observed, with a soft grin. "You really do."

"I am." Pete responded. "I really am."

As they looked at each other one last time, they knew that, even though neither of them really wanted to, it was time to say goodbye again.

"Well," Pete wrapped it all up. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Pete responded awkwardly. "See you later, Mikes."

Mikey shot one last happy grin at Pete before he turned and walked the other direction. Pete, in turn, went back to making simple conversation with Bronx.

Both of them were far too wrapped up in their own new lives and had far too little energy to even think about turning and looking back at each other. In an odd, bittersweet way, everything seemed to have fallen right into place.


End file.
